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The Wait {Quick Write}

   The wait was unbearable.

   I sit stiff in a rather plush leather seat, my foot seemingly tapping in sync with the constant 'tick tock' of the clock that hung over my head, giving some relief to the suffocating silence engulfing this dreaded waiting room. Outside the windows only a few feet away, everything seemed so light and bright, shining with a peaceful and relaxing atmosphere. But within the four walls of this room, everything seemed absolutely harrowing. My hands kept fidgeting with my clothes, switching from dusting off nonexistent lint to just playing with my sleeves. And when my hands weren't doing that, I was messing with my hair. It just didn't seem to look right with every glance I took at my reflection-

   I nearly jumped out of my own skin when the phone suddenly ringed upon the receptionist's rather clear and organized desk, my already speedy heart threatening to ram right out of my chest. The worker speaks in a low whisper when they pick up the phone, inaudible to my straining ears. My eyes dart from this receptionist to the large set of doors that seemed to loom over me, my mind playing and replaying different scenarios of what might possibly within that office. Anxiety ran through my veins like blood, gripping my chest in its cold grasp.

   "She's ready to see you now." 

   The receptionist's leveled voice brings my wandering train of thought right back to reality, chewing the inside of my cheek as a give a little nod and rise to me feet," Uh- thank you." I awkwardly responded with, but their attention had already zoned back in on the digital screen of their computer, the glaring light bouncing off the square lenses that rested upon the bridge of their nose. 

  I suck in a slow inhale of breath as I slip my phone into my back pocket, a weak attempt of calming my nerves that truly did little to help. I tread closer and closer to the intimidating pair of doors until I'm but a mere few inches away from the wood of it, pondering silently if I should knock first or just go ahead and open the door. The debate lasts only a few seconds, and I opt to politely knock rather just assume I have permission to be opening office doors. Halting my anxious fiddling, I raise a single hand up and give the door a soft knock, hearing a muffled 'come in' emit from the other side of the entrance. My hand now moves towards the handle, the metal cold against my warm touch as I turn the hilt and allow the door to creak open a few inches, allowing my head to poke inside.

   I am forced to swallow the lump in my throat as my eyes land on the single person within the elegant walls of the office, a woman sitting comfortably at her tasteful desk, eyes trained upon a set of papers sprawled out before her. She lifts her gaze when I crack the door open, a gentle smile dancing upon her painted lips at my nervous form," I- um, hello. I'm- here for the interview?" I feel a smile of my own crawl upon my lips, only mine was much more nervous than her's. Internally I slapped myself in the face for the stupid stuttering, humiliation washing over me in an instant as my grip on the door tightens a tad.

   The lady at her desk gives a nod, clearing her throat as he hands clean her papers up into a neat pile," Yes, please come in dear. Take a seat."