•Dichotomy•
|"A division or contrast between two things that are or are represented as being opposed or entirely different."|
°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°
How many silhouettes can one trap in oneself? How many faces can a mask hide...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Don't go in!
Don't! He won't like it! That man is scary! He shuts us!
He kicks us out! Who will protect you if not us?
"You all are just scared because he shuts you off.", Alex muttered in her breath as her hands reached the buttons.
"Mr. Walker, can I come in?"
". . . . . . . "
She patiently stood still. Drawing a cold breath, her feet shifted in impending wait.
Don't mess up, little girl! Go back, you still have time! Bring a pen! Bring a pe -
"Shut. . up. ." , words escaped her gritted teeth as she grumbled the voices to stop.
Time was running fast. The stretching silence was not making anything better. With a huff, she decided to give another try. There was no way anyone could enter his chambers without his permission.
She knocked on the fogged glass doors again. "Mr. Walker, may I. . ."
But this time, the response was quick as light, stopping her words in middle.
"Come in."
Her heart skipped a beat. As soon as his voice hit her ears, as usual, her own commotion stopped.
She took in a deep breath of relief. She was determined to not let anything ruin her planned day.
With the usual inflated smile, she entered the office.
She turned her face to shut the door behind her. As soon as she turned to face forward, she expected to encounter his proud smirk, or at best , a mocking comment or an order.
Except, it wasn't.
Her eyes grew pale when they met his fogged ones.
He was just coldly glaring at her figure, and she couldn't help but feel explosively nervous. The atmosphere was too thick and awkward.
The air in those four walls grew swampy and cold. It felt as if it was choking her, and pulling her down into the swamp.
It felt like she walked into an isolated ground full of landmines. His eyes that refused to move away from her face were swirling with something too fiery. And it was just that dilemmatic intensity that was being juxtaposed by his oddly calm face.
Gathering some courage, she cleared her throat, "Mr. Walker."
She tried to sound calm herself.
"Hmm..." , he said, dryly.
'What do you want from me?', she wanted to ask, but words did not climb up her throat.
His thumb was rubbing his ring finger softly, with his hands perched on the side of his head. He looked at her as if he was calculating something.
