Swallowing the growing lump in his throat, Mr. Whit prayed the lift wouldn't make a stop on any floors on his way to the lobby. Any delays keeping him from the final floor would only frustrate him more. 'Why am I like this?' he observed his image in the perfectly polished doors. His restless eyes were shifting between his reflection and the levels that seemed to drop slower by the second. He took his left sleeve and gently wiped his brow, cleared his drying throat, and looked back up at the illuminated numbers. The nerves that were carving their way into him started to make excuses for the mistake:
'It's not like you haven't done this before,'
'There are always risks involved,'
And, 'Nobody said she'd be there.'
Mr. Whit brushed his right sleeve to glance at his watch at the final chime and stepped through the doors, maintaining his composure with a natural, almost easy pace in hopes to not draw attention to himself through the lobby entrance. He didn't bother to take his time and saunter through the baroque-inspired floor as he intended on his way up. At this moment, he wanted nothing more than to move on and end his afternoon at the Imperial. Letting out a long sigh as soon as a gust of air kissed his cheeks, he turned on his heel and made a right to continue down the street.
Hej hej,
Any
No comments:
Post a Comment