Waiting Room

Sarah Writing about Stuff!

On no particular interesting, but significant day. I’m in a room, waiting to be directed up those creaky, dusty stairs close by. It’s small and open with a musty smell and piano is playing somewhere in another room. It’s peaceful and reflective, what more can i say about it?

A tall, meek and thin woman walks into the room not speaking, not smiling but hunching over in a timid way looking at her phone, sat down and curled even more into herself.

I remained silent because i didn’t know her temperaments; her habits. nor, frankly did I care to speak with her but her whole guise had me interested in her. So I figured I had to relieve my overall nervous energy from being here by imaging how she would operate had she been somewhere else other than here. was she more comfortable here? was she more comfortable here than…

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