The Waiting Room

The waiting room was warm and cozy. Thick, dark blue carpeting and dark wood coffee and side tables were elegant yet inviting. A fresh bouquet of red, yellow and white flowers sat upon the front desk and gave the room a light fragrance. Behind the front desk, slightly to the right was a large wooden door. The new, up-to-date magazines were perfectly organized in magazine racks on the tables, instead of being dog-eared and spread haphazardly around like in my own, slightly cluttered waiting room. The comfortable looking chairs sat empty. The paintings on the tan coloured walls were abstracts done in beautiful blues, soft greens and whites, with thick, dark wood frames. The room was masculine without being threatening and spoke of a successful practice over the years. The older woman behind the desk was dressed in a crisp white uniform and had a busy, official air about her, but was quick with a smile when I came hesitantly up to the desk. The soft tap-tap-tap of her typing ceased as she asked, "Can I help you?"

"I've got an appointment with Dr. Orlander at ten thirty," I replied, some of my confidence slowly returning. It had been a long time since I'd seen him, and certainly the last time had not been in such pleasant surroundings. "Olivia Parkinson.". I gave her the false name I'd booked the appointment with.

"Of course, Dear, he's expecting you," she told me after a brief glance at the appointment book.

Oh I highly doubt that, I thought to myself with a small inward smile. However, this meeting was years overdue, one might say a lifetime. My internal smile faded as the door behind the desk opened and a man stepped out.