"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.
Elias checked his watch. He had been here for three hours. He began to calculate the collective misery in the room. If human irritation could be converted into electricity, this room could power a small city—or at least a very large microwave to cook everyone in it. 5 : Hell Is Other People
Elias froze. This was it. Salvation. He stumbled toward the plexiglass window, clutching his paperwork like a holy relic. "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: Elias checked his watch
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.
He looked at his ticket: .The red digital display on the wall read: B-002 .