Patience

I'm sitting on the sofa in the living room, rolling my eyes as the noise from the other room is getting louder and louder. I try hard to concentrate on the documentary I’m watching with my mom but loud high-pitched voices coming from my sisters' room are making it quite impossible.

I look at my mom on my right, poker faced, and admire her patience. My not-so-little-anymore sisters are now screaming and she just watches the telly. I’m wondering if she learned to ignore their endless fights or if she is just trying very hard not to loose it.

Just as I am about to get up, go to their room and try to talk some sense in to them the sound from their room disappears. I hear a sigh of relief from my mom, indicating that she’s not immune to the chaos after all.

The queue

We all patiently queue; I’m third in a line of about eight students. We’re all here for the same reason – we’re about to submit our thesis.

I look in my file and check for about the hundredth if everything’s in there. Three forms, four copies of my thesis and one CD. I gaze at the latter, wondering when was the last time I used it; I honestly can’t remember, I guess it’s truly out of date.

A girl walks out of the office, smiling and another one nervously steps inside. The line moves forward one short step.

I look into the office where eight student counsellors work. Obviously three of them are not working today. I turn around and notice that two more students lined up behind me.

A tall boy leaves the office and the girl in front of me walks in. I move one step closer to the door; I don’t really see the point of making that small step but I feel socially obligated to do it. That’s how we queue, the line must move forward.