ANXIETY

Sitting on a red cushioned chair at a light brown table stained in coffee cup rings is Wade a 6’4, 321 pound man pushing his mid 50’s. Hunched forward with his head lowered and sweat dripping from his oily forehead, Wade is a man with a giant weight of worry on his shoulders. As he attempts to spin a gold wedding ring on the creaking table he draws attention to his subtle hand trembling, and quivering bushy dark brown eyebrows. His shifty light brown eyes continuously move from side to side as he tries to ignore the fact that he is being watched from the glass window on his right. His lowered head enables those who are watching to notice that his curly black hair appears to be rapidly receding, as well as it being both unwashed and greasy. Meanwhile, his lower lip jitters as he awaits his fate. The stubble on his face has begun to grow across his double chin; it won’t be long until his visible chest hair interlinks with his developing beard. He is dressed in a creased, slightly oversized navy blue t-shirt with a topless cowgirl, and a clever use of word play printed on the front that reads; ‘liquor in the front, poker in the back’. Meanwhile, the edges of his dirty finger nails appear jagged due to his consecutive nail biting over the past 36 minutes which explains the sharp nail fragments that must have been not so carefully brushed to the floor. His overhanging beer belly doesn’t quite hide the open zipper on the light blue jeans he’s wearing that are being hoisted up by a dark brown leather belt. His dark brown jacket resting on the chair reeks of cheap cigarettes, an odour that seems to have filled the room. With his heart beat increasing he attempts to clear his throat; a repetitive habit of his. He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, discreetly covering up the dark sweat patches under his armpits. He begins to repeatedly tap his grubby trainers on the laminated grey flooring in anxiety. Slowly, the tapping of his shoes begins to synchronise with the ticking clock hanging on the wall to his left. As he notices passing shadows from underneath the wooden door in front of him, his heart beat rapidly increases as he noticeably begins to tap his feet faster, losing synchronisation with the clock. The palms of his hands grow considerably sweaty as he continues to fiddle with the ring. He briefly searches for a nail to bite whilst trying to maintain his tough man composure within the police office investigation room. Yet the more he tries, the more his lower lip trembles, and his eyes glimmer across the dim blue office walls. His lowered head shields his debatably guilty eyes, yet the sound of the squeaking door knob turning causes his head to rise and his eyes to widen as he realises that the questioning is about to begin.