She walks down the hallway. Slowly, hesistantly as if her life is slowly draining out of her as she takes each step. Her mouth is dry, her palms slick with sweat. The folder she grips in her hands almost slips as she walks.
She catches sight of herself, as she walks, in the polished reflection of a doorway and sees not the beauty that others appreciate, but a too thin, too artificial young woman who looks old. She sees only the flaws, not the perfections. The sum of the parts of the whole are not known to her, all she sees, all she can see, are the flaws, the incompleteness of being that in her eyes defines her.
She takes a deep breath to calm herself, suppresses a feeling of being weightless and jagged, a sense of light headed-ness that threatens to make her fall and stumble.
As she walks further it seems to her that she has bitten off much more than she can chew this time, she will not find any solace in her own self, she will not be her own person, she will continue to be someone whom she despises and despises with all her soul.
Each breath catches in the back of her throat, each word she so carefully rehearsed this morning, what she would say, each gesture she has practised in front of the bathroom mirror is slowly slipping through the grasp of her conciousness as surely as sand slips through an hour glass, marking the passage of time.
She pauses in front of the door that she knew she would have to enter. Her stiff cold fingers and clammy palm belie the confident expression she pastes on her face. She knocks out of sheer habit and waits.
"Come in please." - Says the calm confident voice at the other end. She grasps the doorknob with the finality of someone grasping a life line. As she swings open the door and enters, she can hear that slow intake of breath, the spark of interest that her presence in strange company is de rigeur. She now walks more confidently, sensing with her huntress' instinct that her lithe figure, long legs, lush brown hair and blue eyes have done their bit. Now all she needs to do is charm the idiot behind the desk. "That should not be diffcult." she thinks.
As she reaches the chair she can see her fear out of the corner of her eye, that living breathing entity that always makes her life hell in a run up to something important.
She watches with satisfaction as it curls up on itself and pretends to die. It will be back, but untill then.....And she smiles even more widely as the interview begins...
