The waiting room has this strange atmosphere of familiarity, resembling countless others one might have encountered in the past. It adhered to the quintessential traits of its kind, featuring four dark blue couches thoughtfully arranged within the square-shaped, open-plan space. Overlooking the area from a distance, the receptionist's desk stood as a sentinel, overlooking all who might enter and leave.
In the center of the room, the great cliché of a coffee table commanded attention. It hosted a stack of roughly ten outdated magazines, neatly arranged as if attempting to compensate for their lack of relevance. A flat screen TV clung to the left corner, its incessant hum competing against the receptionist's tapping on the keyboard. Connor, stepping into the room, took in his surroundings with a deliberate, unhurried gaze, acknowledging that the impending wait would stretch out before him, prolonged and arduous.
Further venturing into the room, his eyes caught sight of a cozy two-seater couch, positioned strategically to offer a vantage point down a bright yellow hallway. Adjacent to it, a vending machine stood, accompanied by a framed picture depicting a profusion of vibrant blue and purple flowers, swaying gently in an open field.
Connor settled into the seat, his gaze fixed upon the collection of antiquated magazines, a mere arm's length away. As he glanced at them, he pondered the obligations he had willingly abandoned, choosing instead to subject himself to this waiting game, hopeful that Mary, his dependable assistant, would tend to his forsaken responsibilities.
Yet, as his mind began to dwell on the specter of encountering Lilly, an overwhelming sense of disquiet prompted him to retrieve his phone.
His fingers slowly tapped the screen, accessing his recent calls, and the familiar dial tone reverberated in his ears. Before the second ring could commence, Mary's voice greeted him on the other end, her tone evincing both attentiveness and concern.
"Mr. Mason," she uttered, her voice a balm amidst the uncertain realm he found himself in.
"Mary, I've arrived at Dr. Patel's office, and it appears that I will be stuck here for for some time," Connor conveyed, his words laced with resignation.
The news registered with Mary, causing her to pause momentarily before choosing a compassionate approach in light of Connor's predicament. "That's quite alright, sir. I will take care of your duties until you get back to the office."
A sense of relief washed over Connor upon hearing Mary's assurance, prompting him to continue, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "Mary, there is one more thing I must ask of you."
"Of course, sir," Mary responded, her tone accommodating and willing.
"Could you please cancel all my banking cards? It seems I have misplaced my wallet," Connor requested, laying bare his temporary lapse in responsibility.
Under normal circumstances, Mary might have given Connor an earful, but she recognized the importance of supporting him in the best way she knew how. "Not a problem. Is there anything else, sir?"
"No, but thank you, Mary."
"You're most certainly welcome. Oh, sir, please let me know when I can send Michael to pick you up."
"There will be no need for that," Connor interjected.
"Mr. Mason, there's only so much unproductiveness I can tolerate from you. We're not negotiating on this one."
Connor recognized and appreciated Mary's unwavering determination and steadfastness, which were the very qualities that led him to hire her in the first place.
"However, Mary, I would prefer..." Connor began to express his preference, but Mary swiftly interjected, cutting off his words.
"You rather walk...just consider how little progress you made when you indulged in that mindset, sir. So, there's no room for negotiation."
YOU ARE READING
The Waiting Room
Teen FictionConnor Mason goes through his typical Monday, but from the very beginning, there's a strange feeling to this particular day. With anxiety on his back and trying to evade his troubles, he stumbles upon a waiting room where, unexpectedly, the very pr...
