"Excuse me," Elias whispered to the mother. She didn't look up from her phone. She just shifted her weight, hitting Elias’s knee with her massive, overflowing diaper bag.
He looked at the exit. He could leave. He could walk out into the fresh air, forget the registration, and live as an outlaw. But as he stood up, the egg-sandwich man sneezed, a fine mist settling over the back of Elias’s neck. 5 : Hell Is Other People
"Next! B-zero-zero-three!" a voice crackled over a blown-out speaker. "Excuse me," Elias whispered to the mother
The clerk behind the glass looked at him with eyes that had seen the death of stars. She didn't speak. She just pointed to a small sign taped to the glass: He looked at the exit
He realized then that the doors weren't locked. They didn't have to be.
Elias closed his eyes and tried to find his "inner temple," as his therapist suggested. But the temple was being invaded. A teenager three seats down was watching TikToks at full volume without headphones—a relentless loop of high-pitched laughter and distorted bass. Behind him, two elderly women were having a shouting match about their respective gallbladder surgeries.
Elias looked back at the room. The sandwich man was opening a second bag. The toddler was reaching for his other leg. The TikTok loop started again.