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"Wills, Katherine."

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The waiting room. It always holds different people bringing their chaos to one confined place for various reasons. You have the talkers, who corner people unfortunate enough to sit next to them, that fill the air with chatter about their kids, grandkids, cat, neighbors, and the odd growth on their bowel. The mothers, who are already strained from being at the doctor's office, have the added stress of containing and taking care of screaming children. The old people, sitting like royalty and judging everyone around them as if saying, "I can't believe you're seeing a doctor," and heaven forbid the old talkers. Any combination of these is a hassle but that particular one is rather lethal.
Then there are people like me, sitting quietly either reading or sending everyone a glare, daring them to talk. It's not that I'm a mean person, but a good soldier utilizes every defense against the enemy. I forgot my book today, my usual shield, so I am spending the so far twenty minutes glaring at the old woman across the room from me who has already handed out four Jesus pamphlets and complimentary sermons. I can't help but hope she needs her jaw wired shut, nevermind that we're not at the orthodontist.
A woman in pastel scrubs that clashes terribly with her splotchy skin comes into the room. Everyone looks up, the poor woman trapped by the chatterbox has desperate hope in her eyes.
"Summerland, Rose."
The Jesus woman stands up slowly, huffing like it's our fault she has to stand up. The nurse pretends to wait patiently but I can see irritation in her eyes. She has to deal with these people more than I do. I wonder if Jesus lady will give the nurse a Jesus pamphlet, there probably wouldn't be time for a sermon.
I have no one to glare at anymore, but I keep a scowl on my face to deter anyone else. I wish I had turned back to get my book this morning, but I had already locked the door, and I was going to be late.
It's been thirty minutes. Everything in the waiting room is annoying me. The checkered wall paper. The headache inducing pattern on the carpet, I mean really, do they know sick people come here? The uncomfortable chairs with tacky patterns. Even the various posters, pamphlets and magazines are annoying me.
The door opens again as a different nurse steps through, and I can't help but glare at her like the garish decor is her fault.
"Wills, Katherine."
The scowl is dropped for a small grin as my name is called, sounding like the announcement of a multi-million dollar lottery winner to me. I can leave the waiting room.



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youngpilotThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. said...
Nov. 30, 2011 at 6:49 pm:

The details of the room gives the story a realistic feel, and it is very easy to visualize. I enjoyed the character's discontemptment for her surroundings, and over all, I say good job.

 

 
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