Descriptive Essay On A Waiting Room

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Nothing good ever happens in a waiting room. I pull up to the hospital with a subtle feeling of dread tugging in my heart, and the building looms above me like a grim castle atop a hill. I step to the doors and I am suddenly met with the familiar sterility that pervades every hospital. My footsteps seem to echo around these empty halls, and every sound is amplified, including the beat of my own unsteady heart. Truthfully, I already know where to go as I have done this many times, although I am not proud or happy to admit that. I walk through the winding hallways of the hospital as they lead me deeper into its heart. At last, I arrive at the cold, metallic doors that lead to the waiting room, and I place my hand on the metal as I prepare myself to walk in. After gathering my courage, I push the door open and I am hit with a scent that seems to escape my grasp even as I smell it. I step into a room that attempts to be “homely”, but it just results in a feeling that is the exact opposite; almost as if it is trying too hard to earn my trust. There is a small TV screen that plays the same silent weather forecasts over and over. The fake wooden paneling on the wall gives the room the impression of a plastic cabin and the blue speckled carpet seems to hold shards of colored glass. Still on my guard, I look around the room some more, and there isn’t as many people in the room as I thought there would be. While awaiting results for my mother’s surgery, you would think that more of

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