Leave the Queue Where It Broke

The queue has gone home. Its hardware has stayed behind to make a nuisance of itself. The ticket machine hangs like a busted demand, the leaflet rack cannot offer advice, and the floor rail catches the route your feet were trained to follow. Every clamp is visible because force should show its paperwork. The yellow wringer sulks in the middle. None of this is repaired. It is the reception desk's manners, stripped for parts.