Shifting Waiting Room Ideas Novels & Stories

Although the club assured privacy, it also ensured that the clients' names are not made available to any of the staff. Both men were sitting down drinking and just having small talk in the booth. As the time passed Silver started touching Schuyler's arms and thighs, just small touches, teasing him as was his way every time. Schuyler smiled at him, wanting to prolong this foreplay. He poured another drink for both of them and when Silver pouted adorably, he chuckled and pulled the man in for a searing kiss. Slowly the atmosphere started heating up and both forgot about their drinks. Schuyler took out a keycard and led Silver out of the booth towards the rooms upstairs. They reached the suite,

He keeps his eyes on me until the very last second, until the doors close between us. And then he’s gone. ----- **7:30 AM - Waiting Room** The surgical waiting room is designed to be calming—soft colors, comfortable chairs, quiet music playing. It doesn’t work. Nothing could make this bearable. Catherine is knitting, her hands moving in a steady rhythm even though I can see tears on her cheeks. James is reading a book he’s been on the same page for twenty minutes. Sarah is pacing. Rebecca is on her phone, probably distracting herself with work emails.

Just open and let someone come out and tell me she is okay. They stay closed. I hear him before I see him. Not his voice, the waiting room is too big for that. But there is a shift in the air near the entrance, the particular disruption of someone moving through a space with total focus and no interest in anything that isn't their destination. I turn toward the entrance.

“Come on Cole. We both know that you need the help.” Jamie encourages with a gentle push to get me going. Somehow I manage to step over the threshold and into the thinly carpeted building. Jamie pauses as I look around. We are in the center of a small waiting room. The setup appears to be similar to the waiting rooms I’ve seen on TV. There are several wooden chairs with green cushions placed along the walls of the right side of the room with a large window consisting of two sliding glass panes located to the right of the door immediately in front of us. The left side appears to have been set up to be more appealing to the pups of the pack with a large table in the middle that looks like a ra

"Let's go sit in the waiting room." As if my body is on autopilot, I follow Kayla silently into the surgical waiting room. She keeps trying to make small talk while we wait for some answers but nothing that she says is registering in my mind. I can't think about anything else but Ward and the condition that he is in. "I heard you finally shifted," Kayla changes the subject for the thousandth time. Keeping my eyes focused on the double doors ahead of me, I simply nod my head in response.

In the ward, only white curtains stirred in the wind. On the desk lay a signed divorce agreement. Jason stood in the empty ward, crumpling the agreement. His assistant ran in, panting, his forehead beaded with sweat. "Mr. Smith, I already had someone suppress the news, but the audio recording is spreading rapidly." Jason took a deep breath, the panicked look in his eyes fading into condescension. "No need to look for her. Cancel all her supplementary bank cards. The Woods have been relying on their deals with Smith Group to keep their business afloat. She's throwing a fit because she wants me to drive Susan away."

He held hers back in the way he held things that mattered, with the full settled weight of him, not performing the holding, just holding. The waiting room had four other people in it and a television mounted in the corner playing something with the sound off. The chairs were the standard chairs, plastic and institutional, the same chairs that appeared in waiting rooms all over the country as though there had been a single procurement decision made about waiting rooms somewhere in the 1980s and no one had revisited it since. She had a specific

The clinic walls were pale green and the chairs were hard plastic and Shane sat next to me with his ankle crossed over his knee and his fingers drumming against his thigh. The waiting room smelled like antiseptic and old magazines and a toddler in the corner was stacking blocks and knocking them over and laughing each time they fell. The receptionist had called my name ten minutes ago but we were still waiting. "You're sure about the date," he said and it wasn't a question.

Set the phone on the counter. Picked up his cold coffee and drank it without expression while Isa's footsteps moved through the ceiling above him and the morning light came through the window and the road outside stayed empty. The waiting room was the kind designed to make you aware of your own heartbeat. White walls. Stiff chairs. A receptionist behind a desk who had the specific energy of someone who had watched a hundred people sit in those chairs and had stopped seeing them as people. A number system. A water dispenser nobody was using because using it meant getting up and drawing attention and everyone in here was trying to take up exactly the right amount of space.

“If she wants to speak to you, she will.” Maxwell exhaled. “That’s helpful.” I turned, scanning the room. In the back, there was an empty booth in this shadowy space, slightly out of view from the main bar. I nodded toward it. “We wait.” As we sat, Jameson and Maxwell trailed me. The minutes dragged by slow and stifling. Then the door opened.