Indecision

Nearly motionless for eight hours.
Hands clothed in stylings from the wall,
looked down on by the tough man in the painting nearby.
He felt awkward, embarrassed, ridiculed, ogled.
But rent was due tomorrow.
Will you come back for us, the owner asked.
His mind froze. Again. Should he?
He couldn’t decide. Again.
Isn’t that how he ended up here in the first place?