The Waiting Room

The breeze fluttered into the room and softly rustled the flowers around me. Papers on the receptionist’s desk inched closer to her, the chimes on the window hummed a sweet little tune, and the eager wind lifted the edges of my simple black coat, because of which I now felt poorly dressed for my interview.

The room was big enough to seat about nine people at distances, but one would still be able to hear their hushed tones of talk. It was airy and opulent, with an aura of regality that made me feel small. The floors were a magnificent hand-scraped dark wood that ran lengthwise and reached up to the wall two-thirds of the way, as if in impetus from the run. Above the wood, the walls graced a stunning, but simple, taupe-on-taupe damask wallpaper that glistened in the light from the chandelier. Twenty feet above me, the chandelier looked like a glamorous, miniature version of the sun. Little crystal ‘droplets’ projected unnoticed spectra on the walls. I was not expecting my prospective office to be so elegant and sophisticated.

The one-of-a-kind paintings complimented the chic atmosphere of the room – scenes like a Parisian street in the rain, or a couple under the Eiffel Tower. The choice of artwork hinted on the designer’s taste, but concealed its secret agenda by lending emotion and personality to the space.

I sat, stupefied at the abundance of character in the room. I walked over to a coffee table, and the faint, pleasant aroma of the perfect white tulips rejuvenated me. They stood gracefully in their vase, with the same royal air that the rest of the room possessed. A little wooden plate held up a labyrinthine arrangement of small glass plates. The only other thing on that table was a clear jug of water and some disposable plastic cups that would skillfully deceive a careless eye and be mistaken for glass.

A bookshelf had been accessorised beautifully. The first shelf held three tall decorative pieces: sturdy rose-gold wire started from an acrylic base and went up to hold fascinating little arrangements of quartz crystals that also caught the light from the chandelier. The tallest one had been placed in the centre, with the other two to its sides. To the right, three books had been stacked, of which the spines had no text. The binding was hard and glossy, in colours pale pink, white, and gold. On top of the books stood a gilded gold frame that bore the words “Don’t dig up in doubt what you planted in faith”. An involuntary smile reached my lips, and then a sparkle caught my eye.

There were more rose-gold pieces. These were just as beautiful as the last, but in their own unique way. The wire looped at the bottom to create the base and extended upwards to hold mesmerising grey geodes that glittered like royals basking in the glory of their loyal people. To the left, three pillar candles in different heights watched as everything around them stole the show. Before I could take a look at the remainder of the shelves, I was called in for the interview.

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