When We Met

Forty

|Donovan|

"Ms. Donovan?" The receptionist smiles at me. "Mr. Rivers is ready for you. If you could please follow me."

"Sure." I press my lips into a thin smile and follow the lady in the grey jump suit. I twist my face a little. Since when does a receptionist wear casual jumpsuits? Does that mean this place isn't as intimidating as it seems to be from the outside?

My questions are answered as I carefully tread my steps through a glass valley. Literally. There are cabins on both sides with floor to ceiling glass doors and royal blue coloured blinds. The floor is carpeted in blue (again) and the intense glare of the ceiling lights almost destroys my corneas.

Dayum.

This is the enlarged version of Cinderella's glass slipper. If that slipper was a building, this is what it would look like from the inside.

I try to not let my jaw drop on the ground as I take in the mesmerizing beauty of the interiors. There are indoor plants at every corner of the alley and the entire place smells like perfumed rose. I can literally see my reflection on the glass doors and I almost trip over the sudden rise in the platform. As we walk further, the alley opens into a broader arena, which houses three to four rooms lying behind their respective mahogany doors.

Dayum.

I steal a glance at the door in the far left corner. The name plate says "Manuscripts" and my heart flutters at the thought of all the final copies selected for publication. If I get this job, I'll be one of the editors who decide whether the copies are worth publishing or not.

Oh my God, I'll swoon.

"Ms. Donovan. Just give me a second." The receptionist asks me to wait for her and I lean against the wall that is opposite to the door that reads "Director Rivers".

I shiver.

Rivers Publications is one of the most popular and respectable publishing houses in the city. The fact that they accepted my resume and called me for an interview is in itself a dream come true. Never once did I picture myself walking inside this magnificent building, and now, I am standing in front of the director's office.

Reality is surreal.

The receptionist peeps out of the office and gestures for me to enter. She opens the door for me and I quietly thank her for the same. She smiles politely at me and shuts the door as I stand still like a fool from Shakespeare's plays.

The room opens into a wider space. There is a large mahogany table at the centre of the office, an elegant sofa-like chair rests behind it. In front of it sit two seats of the same material. On both sides of my shivering body lie huge shelves filled with official files and heavenly paperbacks. I am tempted to read the names on the spines, but stop myself from making a fool of myself.

Behind the table are huge floor-to-ceiling glass windows that look into the bustling chaos of the city. The view is breathtaking and I almost pass out from the altitude. The buildings look like tiny match boxes from here.

Dayum.

At the far corner of the office stands a man in a midnight blue tuxedo, speaking into his phone with a calm and composed voice. As he talks, I take a step towards the book shelf and read the titles.

The Iliad

Oedipus Rex

Pride and Prejudice

Shakespeare's Sonnets

Prometheus Unbound

Jane Eyre