distractions and funnel vision

She stands in the entrance, propping her elbows on either side of the door frame waiting for a cue, anything that gives her an excuse to stay. The stagnant air that pushes so heavy against her chest seems to fall dead at his feet. The room looks just the same as it always does, the life outside the building leaks through the crack at the window mixed with the slight wisps of cool air in loud honks and colourful language. He circles around, talks within, languishes in his own bubble.