As soon as I walk through the door, my eyes widen. I slowly make my way up to the front desk, my wedges clicking on the marble floor. I approach the lady sitting behind the large counter and she eyes me weirdly. Maybe it's just her glasses that made her look weird.
"Hi, um, I'm here to see Colton Campbell," I start and subtly check the time on my small wristwatch.
She raises one of her eyebrows at me then looks back at the computer screen in front of her. "Your name?" She asks dryly, typing something on her keyboard.
"Oh- Hana Park," I smile politely.
I continue observing around the lobby. It's hard to tell what this place is for. There's four couches on either side of the room with coffee tables. Colton was definitely right when he said things were plain. Everything is either a shade of white or grey.
I'm about to look at the large chandelier above me but the lady's voice cut me off.
"I don't see an appointment with your name on it."
My lips form a tight line while I furrow my eyebrows, "I wasn't aware I had to make an appointment. He just told me to show up here."
She narrows her eyes, "Are you lying?"
I blink once. Then twice. Then thrice.
"Why would I be lying? I'm only here because Colton asked for paintings to go around his workplace."
"Yes, I paint." I have to force myself to not roll my eyes.
She continues staring at me, unamused. I sigh frustratedly when my eyebrows jump up with an idea.
"What if I told you I was a secret agent with the FBI?"
"That wouldn't be very secretive of you." She retorted.
"Oh. Right." I tap my foot, thinking of another way in. What if I made a run for it? No, she would probably claw me like a scrappy cat.
"If I gave you his business card, would you let me in?"
She runs her tongue over her teeth before saying, "Sure."
I grin, digging into my bag to find his card. It should still be in here because I never took it back out.
"Aha," I say under my breath as I find the matte card. It has some paint smudged on it, probably from my paint brushes. Oops.
"Here you go," I pass the card to her and she takes it in between two fingers like a cigarette. I hate the smell of cigarettes, too many bad memories.
She adjusts her glasses while inspecting the card, turning it so she could look at the front and back.
I watch nervously as she clicks her tongue, putting the card down onto her desk and opening a drawer next to her. Is she gonna pull out a gun? Why do I feel like she's gonna pull out a gun?
I'm wrong. She only pulls out a lanyard with an ID attached to it. "Here, this is so nobody pulls their gun on you."
I was just joking. My eyes grow wider than when I first stepped foot in the place but she doesn't pay attention to it, only holding out the lanyard with a tired face. I can't tell if she's joking or not.
I slowly take the long piece of fabric with a laminated card, reading 'Visitor'.
"Campbell's on the third floor." She nods her head towards an elevator that was probably 30 feet from the desk. How did I not notice that before?
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c l u e l e s s (adj.) having no knowledge, understanding, or ability . • ° ✿ ° • . "Come on, Morelli, you act as if I can walk on water." "Maybe. But you act like I can turn it into wine." ° • . ✿ . • ° Hana Park finally got her life together, f...