The Painting

#30 For the Sake of Love - Ar Mhaithe Le Gra Cuid 1

The company's CEO I wagered? Did that mean the elderly man was Monroe? For some reason I didn't think so.

Following the grey tile covered floor to the back wall I walked I past the only structure in the lobby. A single circular desk that sat in the middle of the room. A woman and a man sat at on the inside of the curved counter their focus held by an assortment of four or five computers that sat before them. The man wrote something down every few seconds while the woman typed furiously without pause. Both were so in tune with their duty that neither of them paused to greet or register my appearance for that matter.

Although the windows encouraged the suns warmth to filter through the barrier I shivered. There was something distinctly empty about the building, I thought for a minute trying to place it. The sound, there was none. I couldn't hear the passing cars or the hum of thickening herds of pedestrians who crossed the street on their way to work, not even cheap elevator music. It was eerily quiet.

Maybe that's how the desk attendants preferred to work I rationalized. Heck I would be easily distracted if I were surrounded by a three-sixty view of the middle of a bustling city – but maybe that's just a small town girl talking.

A woman walked by and I allowed my eyes to watch her as she used the mirrored surface to check herself ruffling her platinum hair and adjusting the strap on her leather purse. I squirmed, it was like I was in a zoo. Except I was completely shut off from the rest of the immediate world, and even though I was the one watching there was a pervasive feeling that led me to wonder whether I was the free or the caged.

Shaking that thought I scanned the white lettering that protruded a few centimeters from the smooth back wall. It took me a few minutes to locate Monroe's name on the top of the middle list.

Richard Monroe ... Executive Branch ... Floor 32 ... Room 321

There was no hesitation in my hand as it connected with the elevator's up button, pushing it firmly down I waited to be taken to Monroe.

The thirty-second floor was much busier than the lobby; plain grey cubicles lined the floor leaving narrow pathways for professionally dressed men and women to scurry through. It was like a giant rat maze separating the workers into small sparsely decorated thinly walled rooms.

Only the right wall of windows were visible where I made my way over to a small waiting area that held a geometrically patterned beige couch and matching chair.

From my seat I took in the rest of the floor in greater detail. The left wall was lined with private offices featuring richly colored mahogany doors. At the point of the room a glass wall separated the last row of uniform cubicles from an oblong table, a conference room I guessed.

As I waited more employees filed in, paying little attention to me as they found their respective cubicles and began work – whatever that constituted. I didn't devote much interest to them, instead I kept my eyes trained on room 321 located at the back adjacent to the conference room.

By nine o'clock my entire body fidgeted with nervous energy. I'd done my best to keep my cool, trying to avoid replaying the scene I scripted and re-scripted in my head. My knee bounced up and down in anxiety, it was getting late. What if he wasn't coming into work today? Then what would I do?

Just then the elevator chimed and a group of men in expensive suits exited the doors. Instantly one stood out to me, he stood at the head of the group of suited professionals and his confident stride outlasted them as he made his way alone to the back of the room.

In ten seconds, I'd crossed the floor catching a brief glimpse of his profile as he shut the door to room 321 behind him. I had my hand on the cool metal handle when a woman called out to me instructing me that I wasn't to go in without an appointment.