Pace in an empty hallway from where the janitors fled like ghosts; the floor is chipped, the walls are warped, the ceiling's made of wax. Wait for something but never know quite what it is. Think you'll recognize it when it comes along but if so you'll pace eternity. Walk the barren passage up and down until you know its secret flaws. Linger a while longer; you've got no where to go. Delay a few more minutes and have your own epiphany of echoes of footsteps tarrying in vacant corridors. Why do you stay? Why do you stall? Explore an emptied passage where you can hear only your breathing. Your hunger to flee balanced by your longing to remain. Belong nowhere else but to this hollow hall. Leave: Linger. Depart: Delay. Walk away: Wait. Alone either way. Pace in an empty hallway where from their demons your ghosts rushed away.