Sunday, August 10, 2008

fiction is a form of symbolism, I believe

Sitting in an office area with the air conditioner turned too high, Teagan wanted to reassure herself that she wasn't nervous. The only problem was that Teagan was honest, and therefore couldn't reassure herself she wasn't nervous because in fact she was. She was about to meet the person that could make her or break her, and all she had was the stench of alcohol in her hair and wrinkly clothes from sleeping on the subway.

Looking into the mirror opposite her, she saw many people in the same situation as herself. They looked disorientated, fidgety, and nervous. They looked like they wanted to be anywhere but there, and most importantly they had a gleam of anticipation in their eyes. It was either they would leave the building happy, or leave it in utter disappointment. It was either they went home with a good story to tell or one that they didn't want to tell at all.

Teagan hoped with all hopes her story would be a good one.

"Teagan?" A nice lady in a white uniform called from down the hall, startling Teagan from her train of thought. "You may come in now."

Teagan stood, taking a deep breath. She popped herself an orange tic tac and smoothed out her limp, flat hair. Her eyes came across another's and for a moment they held a connection of understanding, hope, and once again- anticipation.

Teagan turned away and walked towards the lady in white, her steps echoing off the floor. Her heart seemed to be beating loudly, and when she reached the lady it seemed not to beat at all.

"Follow me, please." She followed her down the hall, watching the lady's feet as they squeaked against the linoleum floor. They came across a room- room number 365 and Teagan found herself holding her breath as the lady slowly turned the door knob and opened the door.

Teagan stepped into the room and the first thing she saw was a shock of red hair much like her own- only it was fake. Sitting there was a stern-faced reaching fifty-one lady that would break or make Teagan at that very moment. Her hair was pulled up to frame her face professionally, and her posture was of the loyal kind. Her eyes were quite likes those of a hawk and they followed Teagan's every move, down to the nervous swallow she took.

"It took you long enough," she said coldly. Her eyes darted towards the chairs opposite her.

Teagan sat down to the one closest to the door and looked down at the floor. "I apologize."

"You've been out drinking," she stated, and Teagan ran her hand through her hair once more. "That might be a problem."

"It isn't," Teagan gritted, "I assure you."

"You wouldn't want to end up like your father did," the woman said softly and Teagan noticed the look of sadness that washed over her features.

"I wouldn't even if I could."

The woman nodded before gazing out the window. "It truly has been a long time though, Teagan. I was afraid you wouldn't show up."

"I was, too," Teagan said softly, "I was, too, mother."

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