She called my name. I rose. Clicked my phone closed and went to the counter to collect my paperwork. Mission accomplished. On with my day.
And before that . . . Waiting for the timer to go off. Scrolling emails. Scrolling Twitter. Scrolling Facebook. No messages. Each minute passing by at an excruciatingly, obnoxiously slow pace. As I made a list and added it to the calendar, I checked the time again. Only 5 minutes had gone by. Now what? I checked my blog. Read it from my phone. Considered the way it looked on my phone since this post was published from my Chromebook. I began setting up a series for the next week. . . Still waiting.
And before that . . . I took a seat in the waiting area. I checked the time. With luck I would be out before my appointment time actually arrived. I looked around at the aisles and decided to put my enforced time to work. Something. Anything.
And before that . . . As I exited, I heard, “We’ll call your name after your mandatory 15 minutes and you can pick up your paperwork.”
And before that . . . I pushed my shirt sleeve up so my shoulder was exposed. I looked away as I felt a small stick. Two seconds later and, “You can take a seat.”
And before that . . . I went to the counter and handed over my signed form and was told to enter the door on my right. No waiting. Inside, a plain unadorned room with one table and a chair. Both empty. I sat in the chair.
And before that . . . I entered the store, scanning the building for my destination. Guessing that a label would tip me off. And yet the unfamiliarity didn’t slow me down. Obviously, my destination was NOT at the front. I had already passed the checkers. I kept walking as I knew the location would quickly be revealed.
How might you manipulate time in order to tell a story in a different order?
This is the second installment in a story begun in last week’s post, Prelude.
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for this daily forum during the month of March. Check out the writers and readers here.