A walk with style
The security guard shot her a look as she tried to force open the electrically locked glass door, half standing up the guard motioned the lady to use her access card, two fingers drawing an invisible box shape. As if that was the first day she started living in that apartment, she suddenly realized she has to flash the access card to the small black device at the wall to open the glass door. So she rummaged through her belonging in her small handbag - a Louis Vuitton hand bag, a common design with it's distinguishable two alphabets. It took her almost a minute to look for the card, security was watching her all this time, surprise look on his face, he was trying to tell the lady something but she was clumsily busy. She was in a tight blue mini dress showing off all her nice lines, 5 feet 7 after high heels, blonde hair with gentle waves serving as a decorative curtain to her bare back down to waist.
In this time of the night, lots of flashy and expensive cars drove pass the drive way, heading to the main street where bars and clubs started to turn up the volume. Finally found her access card, the key that grant her access back to her comfort place. She was holding it all this while but seemed too blank to realize anything. She swung open the glass door and dashed in. Standing up, the guard said something to her, seems to ask her if she was okay, he looked concern. She didn't answer the security instead just gave him a short smile that almost looked sorry and sad. Keeping her head forward as she walked, as if trying to present herself as elegant as possible for the last seen moment. Veron, a name found itself suitable for her. A Nissan slowly drove pass the apartment, witnessed a fraction of the proceeding before gone out of the view.
She heaved a sign of relief, out of sight from anyone, now it was only she and herself, nervous but relaxed a bit. She panted out of breaths. Staring at the floor number indicator, it looked as if all she wished was for the elevator to arrive as soon as possible, so she could avoid talking to anyone especially the security who was getting more curious on the look on her face. The moment of waiting was quiet, occasional shoes shuffling on the marble floor could be heard, only minus the heels clicking of Veron's moments ago. The security was listening to his Ipod. Cars zoomed pass occasionally. The elevator door opened with a sharp chime. It took her a few seconds to locate the number of floor among the buttons, fingers a bit shaky. It was unmistaken, she didn't want to hide it anymore. She dropped her handbag onto the floor and slowly sunk back to the wall, staring blank into the mirror onto her own reflection and found herself aged another ten years older. She gently touched her cheek with her hand, still shaking. Her eyes were red and tears started to form above her lower eye lines, threatened to wash away her beautiful make up that now seemed fatigue. She closed her eyes hard, and long enough for the tears to stream down from her cheek. The floor indicator light on 11th when she broke into a sob.
Some where down the street the Nissan found a parking space - a bunch of friends headed to downtown's hottest club. The impression of the sexy back dressing in blue dress still lingered like a snapshot - that walk with style.
So the night expanded, aged, and then died when the Saturday morning came, an inevitable science experience.
In this time of the night, lots of flashy and expensive cars drove pass the drive way, heading to the main street where bars and clubs started to turn up the volume. Finally found her access card, the key that grant her access back to her comfort place. She was holding it all this while but seemed too blank to realize anything. She swung open the glass door and dashed in. Standing up, the guard said something to her, seems to ask her if she was okay, he looked concern. She didn't answer the security instead just gave him a short smile that almost looked sorry and sad. Keeping her head forward as she walked, as if trying to present herself as elegant as possible for the last seen moment. Veron, a name found itself suitable for her. A Nissan slowly drove pass the apartment, witnessed a fraction of the proceeding before gone out of the view.
She heaved a sign of relief, out of sight from anyone, now it was only she and herself, nervous but relaxed a bit. She panted out of breaths. Staring at the floor number indicator, it looked as if all she wished was for the elevator to arrive as soon as possible, so she could avoid talking to anyone especially the security who was getting more curious on the look on her face. The moment of waiting was quiet, occasional shoes shuffling on the marble floor could be heard, only minus the heels clicking of Veron's moments ago. The security was listening to his Ipod. Cars zoomed pass occasionally. The elevator door opened with a sharp chime. It took her a few seconds to locate the number of floor among the buttons, fingers a bit shaky. It was unmistaken, she didn't want to hide it anymore. She dropped her handbag onto the floor and slowly sunk back to the wall, staring blank into the mirror onto her own reflection and found herself aged another ten years older. She gently touched her cheek with her hand, still shaking. Her eyes were red and tears started to form above her lower eye lines, threatened to wash away her beautiful make up that now seemed fatigue. She closed her eyes hard, and long enough for the tears to stream down from her cheek. The floor indicator light on 11th when she broke into a sob.
Some where down the street the Nissan found a parking space - a bunch of friends headed to downtown's hottest club. The impression of the sexy back dressing in blue dress still lingered like a snapshot - that walk with style.
So the night expanded, aged, and then died when the Saturday morning came, an inevitable science experience.
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