My Life At The Whitney Museum Of American Art

1524 WordsMar 3, 20177 Pages
‘God damnit,’ Sydney muttered under her breath. She had forgotten her wallet on the timber coffee table in her cluttered apartment. She began digging through her purse scavenging for enough cash to pay the crabby cab driver. She found two twenty-dollar notes and sighed in relief, she spared herself the mortification of informing the driver she had no money. ‘Where to?’ he barked at her. ‘LaGuardia Airport please.’ He grunted in response and took the next right onto Park avenue leading out of the upper east side. Sydney had recently moved into her one bedroom apartment on 74th street, to be closer to her newly acquired job at the Whitney Museum of American Art, in midtown Manhattan. 27 years of age, and Sydney still did not have a…show more content…
Sydney uncrossed her legs, she felt the beginnings of a cramp coming on, and brought her knees up to her chest. ‘Feet off the seat lady,’ the cab driver remarked, hard eyes meeting hers in the rear view mirror. Pursing her lips in annoyance, Sydney obeyed and lowered her feet back to the floor of the cab. She revised the instructions she had given her father the night before. ‘When you get off your flight, collect your luggage and come to the arrivals lounge. I will be waiting for your there,’ she had instructed. ‘Yes I know dragă, I’ll be coming exactly where you tell me,’ her father replied in his soothing Romanian accent. ‘Make sure you don’t leave or go anywhere, if you suddenly need something call me on my cell immediately. I love you, and I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she had said before she ended the call. A sudden burst of worry coursed through the veins in her body at the thought of something happening to her Father. He’ll be fine, she reassured herself, and rested the tip of her forehead against the cool glass of the window. She felt a sensation of cold emitting from the window seep into her body, rippling down her spine as a shiver. *** ‘Tata I 'm here, where are you?’ Sydney had called into the house her Father was residing in. Her footsteps echoed down the dark hallway and turned right into the kitchen, flipping the light switch on as she passed. She squinted as bright light filled the room, her eyes adjusting from the dark, dimly lit streets of

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