two hour has passed but the woman still remains rooted to that exact spot she had been in upon her entrance. what is different, however, is how she no longer wears that look of excitement and felicity she did as he saw her entering, almost prancing, through the entrance -- two hours ago. instead, her face has become sort of a mixture of anxiety, worry, and melancholy. he does not know why, he does not think that it is in his place to ask why either.
he rotates his chair to follow her eyes and sees her staring at a man in a jet-black suit approaching her, strangely wishing that it was the person she was waiting for. regardless, he would not know even if it was him since he is a distance away and it is not in his place to know anyway. he sees the man leaning towards the woman and whispering in a way he thought was too professional while her countenance with overflowed with eagerness.
and as soon as he leaned back to walk away from her swiftly, he saw her face contort into an expression he has never quite seen before yet knew what it was: despair and grief. he saw tears trickling -- then pouring from her eyes as her knees gave way and she collapsed onto the marble. he got up to walk towards her but stopped, thinking that it was none of his business, and not in his place either. biting his lip he shuffled through the idea of leaving the scene or going up to help her. he swore under his breath and went up to her.
"hey ma'm," he awkwardly asked, "what's wrong?"
---
PLAYING WITH POINTS OF VIEW SO YEAH. IT'S PRETTY BAD ACTUALLY, not in a humble way but in a seriously-it's-quite-bad way. too many adjectives and tautology. but i don't know how to inject expression into a stranger observing an emotional situation! gah, hopefully i'll get better.
anyway,
poetry (here)
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