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  • A woman sits in her chair, tapping her foot though with a visage portraying no sign of irritation. She occupies herself with slow glances around the room. The room itself is crowded, yet there is no lack of seats for those who wish to sit. There was a wide range in the demographic of the room - from young to old, a representation of virtually every nationality.

    "What I would do for a cigarette right now," remarked the woman.

    "I suppose that will go away eventually," replied a man sitting directly to her left.

    "It's funny. I wasn't even a smoker before this. Never liked the things," she said without turning to look at him.

    The two continued to watch others in the room, both with the same indifferent expression. The woman noticed a particularly old man, sitting alone in a distant corner. He appeared deep in thought, yet like clockwork, he would look up and glance towards the entrance of the room. When he was satisfied that nothing had changed, he would let out a brief sigh and return to his thoughts.

    "He's been here for as long as I can remember," noted the man. After a short pause, he added, "he must have someone pretty dear to him just waiting to come in."

    "Well she sure is in for a treat here," muttered the woman.

    Turning away from the old man, she spotted what looked to be a very weary looking King Henry VIII. The excitement of seeing historical figures had long since worn off on her, as the vast number of them that roamed the halls would cause any rattled onlooker sheer exhaustion. She merely noted their fatigue and felt a deep condolence for their plight.

    "Can you imagine," she said, "being stuck in this god forsaken room for such an indefinite amount of time? Your name gets printed in a history book, and your fate is sealed. People will be talking about you for centuries! And all for what? The chance at glory? Well, they got what they wanted. A chance to live forever."

    She glanced over to a middle aged man being led out of the double doors by an older woman in all white.

    "I wonder how they got Ms. Beauvoir to do this job," the man mused.

    She returned her gaze to the old man she was watching before. Per his routine, he sat and stared, and eventually lifted his head to peer at the double doors. This time, however, his eyes lit up. Ms. Beauvoir was leading an elderly woman in through the double doors. His joy overtook him, and he hurried as fast as he could over to her. They embraced, both with tears rolling down their cheeks. Hardly a moment had passed when Ms. Beauvoir grabbed the mans arm and began to lead him back out the doors in which his love had entered. He resisted a little, but knew it was no use. The couple stared deeply at each other for the last moments before he exited.

    "It looks like she was the last person alive that remembered him," said the woman.
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