This one was written for my creative writing class, nah its not the best but some people enjoy it... The topic was pretty open but I didnt feel like writing anything "dark/deep" but I did put some time on the metaphors.
Well hope you enjoy!
Patience
Time passes by, nothing happens, and no one moves. Who created these lines? Somehow we are capable of curing cancer, and yet we have not figured out a way to stop this big waste of time! Going to the post-office should save me time. I always thought it was a way to send things without actually delivering them yourself.... God, I was wrong.
The continuous ticking of the old ticking clock drives me insane. I look to the ceiling and see those cheap fluorescent lights. Their annoying buzzing fuse with clock's ticking creating a truly hellish noise. Despite the irksome cacophony, some people manage to ignore it and even contribute to this living hell. The old ladies in front of me, for example, they seem to be having the best time of their lives... perhaps their social life is limited to this, waiting in line to talk about their pathetic existence.
When I think things could not get any worse, I look back and see three sweaty men. One of them seems to be holding a very colorful package, while the others are pretty much just standing with him. Suddenly they start talking in a language that sounds like gibberish to me. I try to ignore but I just can't, it draws my attention and I try to guess what they are saying, what is on that package, and to whom is he sending it to. Maybe it’s some kind of bomb, or perhaps a stuffed pony for his daughter who still lives in Mexico, Venezuela, or Puerto Rico.
I look down and stare at my foot that seems to be tapping on the floor by itself, marking the compass of that damn clock. As I was approaching my breaking point, I hear a gentle voice say: "May I help the next customer?" I give her a false smile and she happily smiles back to me (making me, for a moment, forget about the distress I have just been through). I reach for my wallet and pay my fee, after that she looks at me in the eyes and say with a tender voice: "Have a nice day Sir." Yeah like that was possible. Her hypocritical comment makes anger run through my veins. However somehow I can say nothing but: "You too!" I quickly exit the building, shouting anathemas in my head, but glad that everything was over and with a sense of pride for not letting myself succumb to the stress of those five long minutes.
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