If she were sitting any closer to him their knees would be touching. She traced the tips of her manicured fingernails with the side of a nail file. He thought that if he looked closely he could see the bits of nail floating down from her fingers. Like snow, or dandruff, they fluttered in the air, landing in stark contrast to her black pressed pants. She chewed her gum obnoxiously, her teeth clicking and popping as the gum lost its flavor. It smelled like a citrus explosion when he drew in each breath, a tinge of mint hinting the manufactured aroma. She tapped her heel without rhythm on the linoleum floor, the gold tipped stilettos creating an echo across the small room. He kept his hands at his sides, hanging just below the seat of the chair. The chair was fraying at the edge of the seat, the once sturdy basket weave succumbing to use. It creaked whenever he moved, which wasn't much. He concentrated on his breathing, filling up his lungs with air until they could bear no more, and then putting in more. Exhaling slowly, controlling his body though it was aching for the relief in pressure. He kept his hands still, attempting a rigidity that was not possible. His fingers would occasionally twitch, and she would glance, sometimes, down towards them. His glasses were slipping down the bridge of his nose, the small pads of plastic offering no grip on flesh. He slowly moved his hand up to his face, pushing his glasses to their place at the top of his nose. His hair was slightly greasy and matted with sweat, the dark brown strands lay glued to his forehead, in contrast to his alabaster skin. He placed his hands on top of his thighs, and idly traced invisible patterns into the dark denim of his jeans. He began to swallow convulsively, his adam's apple bouncing up and down his throat. She looked around, seemingly worried, and leaned over to him. His eyes began to water and he started to draw in shallow wheezing breaths. She walked the perimeter of the room, looking to anything in the empty space that could help. Scanning the walls she walked over to the door that was the only way out of the room. She fingered to cool bolts as she looked for a means to open it. she noticed a tiny crack at the hinge and began to look through it. She saw slivers of light in a hallway, and the silhouette of a person . . . .