Gloaming

Hate It Here

Cynthia's point of view
——————————————————-
"Mark" She says, making my stomach drop to the ground.

It's like she forgot about what happened.

Is she trying to prove something to me?

Does she regret what happened?

Or is she just lying to herself?

I stand in the same position with so many questions filling my head.

My eyes are locked on the list, attempting to get my mind on something else.

My job is a supply person.

I'm curious about when oxygen runs out, will I get a new job?

I quickly turn around and begin to make my way to the British lady's office.
I need to get my pass and my ID card.

I speed walk down the long hallways, my feet making soft tap noises on the dark coral carpet. The smell of the fluffy breakfast muffins lingers around the halls of the hotel.

After desperately scurrying around in hopes of finding the office, I discover myself standing in front of a door.

I softly knock on the cheap mahogany door.

"Come in" I hear a soft british voice say.

I enter the ratchet office, the smell of paper slapping my nose.

I look down at my feet as I walk in, and I can't help but notice how bad I look from the waist down.

My thick black boots are slathered in mud, and my jet black jeans have a hole on the knee.

I doubt my hair looks nice.

"I need my ID and my supply job pass" I ask softly, hoping that my personality will make up for looks.

As she frantically searches her desk for something obviously significant, I can't help but notice the big bulky ice machine in the top left corner of the room.

Was this the ice room?

I would think that this lady would have a budget or just common sense to steal. She did make fake oxygen, a revolutionary substance.

I snap out of my deep thought when I hear a soft british tone escape out her mouth and move around the room. I could not distinguish between words. What did she say?

"Huh?" I say, almost embarrassed about how small my attention span is.

"Name?" She repeats.

"Cynthia Roth" I say quickly and confidently.

I watch as she uses the back of her pen to trace down her clipboard, she stops in the middle and quickly writes something down.

She opens her teensy desk drawer and quickly pulls out my ID card and my pass.

She hands it to me, her arm extended all the way out.

I plaster a fake smile as I take the 2 significant passes.

I quickly turn around, my blonde hair no longer flipping

I slowly walk toward the door knob, and when my hand touches it I realize something.

I flip back around, my hair no longer coming with me.

"What happens when there is no more oxygen out there?" My curious mind says out loud.

"Ill have oxygen masks by then" she says with a smile.

I smile as a reply.

I then turn the door knob and exit the office.

I'm gonna hate it here.