I’m not sure if it was the low ceiling, the subdued lighting, the heat, or the boring, monotonous voice of the man, the ‘tour guide’, leading the group, that made me start to feel unsteady on my feet. Of course, it could also be a combination of everything plus this heavy cold, or rather, man-flu, I have, but his droning on about the inner workings of the automated voice mail system would surely have made a ‘well’ person want to nod off.
In the end, I stood back… I lost total and complete interest in what he was waffling on about and instead started watching the reactions of the other three ‘special guests’. Even though my eyes were stinging, I could see the others were having as much of a good time as I was… the woman, constantly yawning, used a tissue to try to hide what she was doing… the man by her side doodled flowers on the information sheet he had attached to his clipboard… and the man at the front, the one closest to our ‘guide’, clasped his hands so tightly behind his back, even in this light, I could see the colour being squoze out of his fingers.
Not that the ‘guide’ was aware of anything… he just rambled on and on and on… until I felt myself start to sway and I stepped forward with my left leg to try to balance myself… unfortunately catching with my foot the heel of the woman in front (who’d decided to step backwards at that exact moment).
With an ‘ow’, she turned suddenly, knocking the clipboard out of the man’s hand and into the wrung out hands of the other man, who also swiftly turned with a smirk at the interesting commotion behind him; the ‘guide’ continued, blissfully unaware that now nobody was paying any attention to him whatsoever.
Posted for Six Sentence Stories. Denise has chosen Nod for this week’s prompt word.
The Mansionic Perspective 
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