30in30, Day 19: "Behind The Desk, Late Morning"

Another headache under the bright white light.
Your eyes are grit. Throat gravel.
Nausea sits in your gut, churning the contents with a stick,
making you think of porcelain and tile floors.

Your knees ache at the joints; your elbows;
your wrists and fingers throb. You ignore it.
You make the pencil scritch, scratch across the page;
It's a nice sound.

You are watching for patrons.
One eye on the elevator.
One on the stairs.
Write a line and scan again for
May I help you?
How many?
Payment up-front, please.

Down comes a tall man, bald head shining,
taking the stairs two at a time;
It's their way, all the people with 2 good legs,
always bounding around and frowning about it:
ability's an imposition.

He sees your chair, shining red.
He says, "Wish I had one of those! My life would be so much easier!"
It's expected; that's also their way;
they long for batteries and throttles;
you want their 2 good legs, and to go bounding down the stairs.

You would smile.

T.A.B. 4-19-13