5 : Hell Is Other People — Authentic & Trusted

He realized then that the doors weren't locked. They didn't have to be.

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 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 realized then that the doors weren't locked

"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. He had been here for three hours

Elias froze. This was it. Salvation. He stumbled toward the plexiglass window, clutching his paperwork like a holy relic.

He looked at the exit. He could leave. He could walk out into the fresh air, forget the registration, and live as an outlaw. But as he stood up, the egg-sandwich man sneezed, a fine mist settling over the back of Elias’s neck.