Someone in the room is suddenly invited somewhere. One doesn't know the details, only that the person in the room with you, someone you have grown accustomed to, is now preparing to leave for another place.
A certain anxiety sets in: why was I not also invited to wherever the new place is? Who made the invitation? Will I ever leave this place? How long will I have to remain here?
This anxiety gives way to sadness: perhaps I will always be here. No one even remembers or notices that I am in this room. There will be no invitations forthcoming.
Then, one begins to ponder the inevitable: how much time do I have left? Will the rest of my days be spent here in this room? Will anyone come for my corpse when I die?
The dread notion that all has been for naught now arises: what was it all for? I have done everything I could in order to warrant an invitation. Did I do everything I could to warrant and invitation? Would I even go if I received one?
Finally, one's spirit sinks low with the great reckoning of all human things: none of it matters, because wherever they have gone, there is only one possibility waiting for them - another room, much like this one.
Here, in this room, there is no way we can know who sends the invitations, why they are sent and what waits for us should we accept one.
Still, we are bewildered when another receives one.
So, as they take their leave, I wish them well.
Then I resume waiting.
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