Their "yes" comes with glazed eyes and furtive glances at LEDs.
A comment or two, but with expert, meaningless non-commitment.
The agenda is dispatched,
But compensation is expected for such professional mis-management.
The sigh's exertion was the only motion that roiled his body.
All else was praticed, habitual stillness.
Not meditation, rather a religion of sugar consumption.
An endless, passive, idiot-box inattention.
Not stopped. Not stuck. Stone.
She knew what but could not bear to say it.
Just thinking it brought beaded sweat,
Victim she would stay.
High priestess of fear.
Goddess of silence.
The unspoken space between them was too wide to cross.
Mere inches across the table was never so far.
They could not bear seeing the other's soul.
Their gaze took in the floor,
The shoes of other patrons,
The crumbs of other, happier meals.
Inertia is not a force for good.
Inertia is no one's friend.