The woman burst into the room, doors swinging violently but silently on their practical and well oiled hinges. Her eyes bled mascara in small traceable rivers of black down her porcelein face. Her eyes were puffy as she searched frantically around the sterile white room for any signs of life.
A greasy forty something man sat behind a security desk. The desk was a cluttered and disheveld mess, reflecting its grubby owner. The man apparently didn’t mind, as he slurped ramen noodles messily from a styrofoam cup.
The woman hurried over to the desk her crazed looked causing the man to look up briefly from his ramen noodles.
“My son where is my son?” the woman shrilled.
“Room 203” the man mumbled, ramen noodles dripping down his chin and onto his already splotchy shirt.
The woman turned and ran as fast as her pantyhose covered feet could carry her, she had left her highheels behind. Mascara flecked the floor as she flew through another set of doors into another sterile room.
The guard returned to his ramen.