Liminal Spaces To Get Lost In

An empty high-school cafeteria caught between overnight clean-up and the first morning crowd.

A silent amusement-park midway after the last ride, caught between closing and the morning crowd.

The gates opened at 5:45 on a Tuesday. Lane 3's rope floated two inches left overnight. The first swimmer doesn't arrive until 6:00. It is still only 5:45.

Belt 4 stopped at 11:52 on a Friday. The forty-first bag had been claimed six minutes before. The hall still runs through the motions.

The last skate was returned at 9:47 on a Saturday. Forty-two pairs. The floor still holds the shape of everyone who left.

The arena concourse at 10:47 on a Thursday — gate 116's light still on, nowhere to go.

The escalators stopped at 9:58 on a Monday. The cosmetics counter is still lit. Tuesday hasn't decided anything yet.

The building emptied at 7:47 on a Monday. The lobby still doesn't know what to do with itself.

The tournament ended at 9:14 on a Saturday. Thirty-seven folding chairs. Nobody stacked them.

The lobby closed at 6:03 on a Friday. The money didn't.

The gym doesn't belong to anyone between games. Wide. White. Waiting for the next thing it's allowed to be.

Movie theater lobby after the last screening — empty lobby, dead concession stand, corridor to the dark.