She stepped into the white room. Your heart stops for a second, and then it resumes normal service to various points on your body, albeit at a speed similar to that of the TGV. Somehow, the whole oxygen-carbon dioxide-hydrogen mix of the atmosphere seems to change, seems to thicken, seems to weigh you down so that even standing becomes difficult, perspiration is forced out of your pores, right onto your underarms, leaving that unsightly dark spot under your 250 Dollar shirt.
Why? How come?
That fantasy in your head, again and again evaporated long ago. Hours, minutes? No, no, my sweet, months, years ago.
You replaced it with this.
She stepped into the white room. The children around her stop for one second, marveling at her presence and carry on with their varied actions, their varied... devastations of the family furniture. She drops the briefcase on the floor, and picks up her blackberry, looking at the message flagged in red hearts. She smiles knowingly, at the knowledge of the elicit rendezvous that would occur not many minutes from that moment. You, have no idea of this of course, all you know is that she's the one for you, she thinks you're just the one of many. When did they take all the control? Haha, they always did, and men trying to even pretend to have any sort of control are only fooling themselves.