Descriptive Essay: The Contractor

Sarah Hackett nervously checked her watch again. She knew that if she didn’t get into the elevator, leading down to the big lobby, leading out towards the building where Dr. Farris, (her physiatrist) was in 46 seconds, she would arrive late. She clucked her tongue as she hurriedly walked towards the elevator, flicking a piece of non-existent lint off her immaculate steam pressed jacket. She’d never been late, were her thoughts, as she looked down at her shined shoes. She believed it proper to arrive early, if not exactly on time. She reached the elevator, and pressed the button about seven times in a row, even though she knew that wouldn’t help. The door’s opened slowly, like they were deliberately keeping her up. A mother with a pram walked

It was a tall man, who looked about her age, and had about the same colour sandy blonde hair as she did, but there the similarities ended. He was wearing a faded brown Che Guevara shirt, baggy jeans that looked about three sizes too big for him, paired with sneakers that were frayed just about everywhere. His hair was longer than Sarah cared for, reaching down too his jawbone, and was covered in a navy blue beanie. He had an iPod stuck in his left ear, and it looked like he hadn’t shaved in at least a week. Sarah saw all this, because being a crime scene investigator, it was her job to observe, and she did her job well. She frowned upon his utterly informal attire, and thought he looked like a college student. The doors slid closed again, and was it just her imagination, or did they slide back quicker now, like they knew they had done their job now that she was going to be late anyway? She heaved a sigh of relief as the elevator started its descent. Then suddenly the elevator lights started flickering, and then they switched off. Shortly after that, the elevator stopped.

It’s not that bad. Probably just a power failure. I’ll bet someone’s already notified someone else to come and get us out.”

"No, no, no, no, you don 't understand. I 'm never late. I just can 't be late." She glanced around the small elevator like a startled rabbit, and felt like the walls were receding and going to crush her and she felt very woozy. She stumbled but managed to regain her balance.

" Whoa, maybe you should sit down," Scruffy College Dude said, steadying her with a surprisingly strong arm. He looked at her with concern, and said, "Y 'know, maybe you should just learn to chill out. I mean, no one is going to think badly of you if you were stuck in an elevator and was late."

Suddenly a big, wet salty tear slid down her cheek. She had absolutely no idea why she was being so emotional. Sarah, sometimes I just wish you could be more co-ordinated. You 're always late. Her mother 's disapproving voice rang through her head over and over again. Sarah, you 're so useless! Always tripping over your own feet.

"Hey, are you okay?"came his soft voice. She saw that he had also sat down against the opposite wall of the