She stooped quickly to pick up her I.D. badge from the parquet wooden floor. The long dark corridor of the disused part of St. Cyprian’s Hospital give just enough light to see. “Damn thing’ Joy muttered inspecting the clip at the end of her rainbow coloured lanyard…. and then she paused. She reminded herself that it was important to live in the here and now, and stopping to pick her badge up had made her realise she had been rushing through her morning.
She sighed and allowed her favourite, light brown, soft leather bag to fall to the floor. The coloured patches crumpled together in an arty mess, a little like her unmade bed.
The laminated card flicked sunlight into the darkness. She took a moment to look whilst she wiped it clean. She read her name and the psychiatric hospital she worked for and her title “Clinical Nurse Specialist”. She wondered what a stranger might make of that title. They would have no idea how important that job was to her.
She looked at her photograph, trying to see what others might. The short black hair that she was often complimented on showed a cowlick on her forehead and her crown. She looked young, was she too young to be taken seriously! Now she was thirty that would change. She would be taken seriously she decided. People said she had flawless skin but they didn’t realise the expensive concealer she used to hide her tear drop birth mark at her right eye, was good for hiding redness and blemishes. The concealer had done it’s job when the photo was taken despite the harsh light. She liked her light green eyes though and she knew they were unusual, the one feature she liked and they looked blue and half asleep on her photo.
People had said she looked like Demi Moore but couldn’t see it herself, possibly around the mouth and jaw, anyway looks really weren’t that important, she’d scrutinized herself long enough. She clipped the badge back on, swept her bag up and continued along the corridor short cut that nobody ever used.