When half the room heads outside

“Anyone coming?” Chairs scrape. Half the group drifts to the back door, and it swings shut on a laugh you were part of ten seconds ago. You feel it right away. Most of that pull is about the door, not the cigarette.

All along, the cigarette was charging you admission to your own friends. They were always the good part. Now you get two clean options, and both work. Go out with them and do what everyone not smoking does with their hands, which is nothing. Or hold the room. The ones who stay inside are talking too, and you've got them all to yourself.

Pick one before the door finishes closing. If you stay, take the good chair and ask the person next to you a real question. Skip the weather. Ask something they'll love answering. Twenty seconds in, you've forgotten who left. You've got the best seat in the house.

Ask God under your breath as they go. Keep me easy in my own skin tonight. Then let the night be the night. These people came for you. The doorway was never the point. They'll drift back in and find you mid story, holding the room.