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"And then when my soul saw you, it kind of went, 'Oh, there you are. I've been looking for you.'"
- Unknown
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"You can do this. You can do it," I mumble under my breath, my eyes glued to the orange LED light that climbs higher and higher. "No no, I can't. I fucking can't," I groan, running a hand through my tousled curls for the fifth or twentieth time this morning. A loaded sigh falls from my lips and it only gets worse when the number on the screen registers with me.
Well, before I can prepare myself anymore, not that that is even possible at this point, the shiny ass doors slide apart. Grrrrrreat, I think as I take a step and almost trip over the door jamb. My eyes dart around quickly and luckily nobody notices. At least, I think so. I adjust my hair to splay it over my shoulders, and smooth the flowy black skirt of my dress, suddenly wondering how many wrinkles I've put in it since leaving my flat.
My head goes down almost immediately and I pick at the sleek fabric, searching for new wrinkles.
"They're going to think that they have the wrong person when I walk in there, I'm all over the place," I whisper under my breath as I pick off a long hair and flick it away with a disgusted look. "I dunno how I even manage to look mildly presentable on paper, because when they see me they're going to be regretting a few things."
After a few attempts of smoothing out the wrinkles, I finally take the next corner. I find the reception desk, and hear phones ringing everywhere. A brunette lady with a gravity-defying hairdo picks hers up. "Styles and Lawson, this is Michelle," she groans into the mouthpiece with a smile. I look away with bugged-out eyes and back in front of me just in time to almost run into somebody.
"I'm sorry, I wasn't really watching where I was going," a voice hurries, leaning over to pick up something.
"It's okay, neither was I," I smile, bending down and grabbing a yellow notepad.
