The Fierce Flame

03|| running through life

I laugh at my situation. Sometimes even at myself, many a times at my life. Time challenges me every minute, every second. It's like while running I developed this strange obsession of wining over the intangible treasure.

I push the metal bars, the door opening. The cold condensed air, hits directly on my face, cause the AC faced the entrance. I didn't know my push was so hard, until the door banged against the wall. It didn't have any effect on mine, for my anger coursed in my vein, ceasing every rational sense of mine.

My loud entrance, draws unwanted attention. Noise always proved to draw attention, even if what it showed was all wrong. The head of every man clad in formal shirt, seated behind the computer, glances towards me, so did the customers they attended. Did it waver me? No. If anything I appreciate about the earlier days of my life, caused it'd taught me, don't back, just don't.

Few minutes, some number of hours, the bystanders will entertain themselves and when life would proceed, they will forget, and some straight forward will once when they step out of the scene. Hardly anyone gives a shit. Someone who really got time, they might think, repeat and recreated it to share over their evening tea. However, I got none, nor time nor a care what the people thinks of me.

I march towards to the one empty counter, towards my left. My shoes clicking on the polished tiles, living behind a trail of dust and dirt. For the, I have ignored the sign of no shoes, firmly walking having hold my chin high.

I slam my hands on the counter of the TV Connection Operator. Given the card of my receipt was a living thing, it would have been dead by now, for the amount of pressure I am putting on it. The table shakes with sudden jolt, shocking the bald man, who instinct kept his hand over his raging heart.

"What happened, Madam?" He offers with an inquiring tone, marrying a façade of treating your customer as God, which keeps crumbling.

I take my hands off the payment card, keeping my red painted fingertips, slowly sliding before him. He squints before wearing his spectacle, observes it and then looks at me with silence. Bewilderment shone high in the air between us.

Sighing a breath, to calm myself down, I tap my fingers on the current running month, at the side of which the stamp of paid is put.

"You've paid, Madam." He says, pushing back the frame of his glass.

I lean forwards, making him lean backward, "Exactly, it's December, that means my payment is up to date." I jest clenching my fist to control my flaring anger. The employee nods, acting as if I've left my work in middle to pamper him with a story. I lean more forward, the red strands coming before my shirt, tapping angrily on the paid stamp.

"Since you've acknowledged that, I've paid, then why my TV screen is showing the continuous dancing Grizz and Fizz of black and white bees, every time I switch it on." I bellow rattling the whole office.

Sensing the turning of situation, the manager rushes out from his cabin, pushing back the sleeves of his shirt, all set to put his rusted managerial skill to handle the state.

"What's happening here?"

Yours mothers wedding, the words were on the tip of my tongue, however my etiquette stopped me. The employee who was dealing with me, gets up in hurry, explaining the matter to his senior. The manager nods, standing before me, he turns his attention with a sweet honey dripped smile, "Ma'am, please calm-"

I grab his collar, my red painted nails curling against his cloth, pulling him to face me. "Dare to tell me to calm down." I grunt shooting glares at him. On seeing their boss, getting manhandled, the dedicated employees rush past me, towards him, like a donkey's tail on fire, trying to separate him from my grip.