Room for Waiting

Mike was nervous, very nervous. He wiped the sweat off his palms and licked his lips.
It shouldn’t take this long. He thought.
He looked around him.
No magazines or newspapers. No tea or coffee. It was the worst waiting room he had ever been in. The all white colourful scheme could also be seen to. He thought
“Number 1025.” A soft female voice announced.
Somewhere, someone yelled with excitement.
Mike pulled out his ticket and looked at it.
#3067.
“Shit!” he exclaimed loudly, then he remembered where he was.
“Sorry!” Mike yelled to the air.
“Not that it matters now.” He whispered.

Death had been painful for Mike. The emotional side was what hurt. The look in his wife’s eyes as she throw the love letter into the bath.
“Bastard! Do you love her?!”
He could still feel the rush of water and his wife’s hands on his head. He remembered the violent splashing and screams. Then nothing. Black.

Mike knew that the sum of his mortal achievements was already sealed. Now it came down to the good outweighing the bad.
Fat Chance. He thought.
Years of heavy drug use, domestic violence and deviated sex crossed his mind.
“Looks like we’re in for a hot one!” Mike yelled, laughing at a thin pale man sitting across from him. The man looked at Mike then got up and moved seats.

“Number 3067, 3067 please.”
Mike awoke, startled.
“Last call for Number 3067.” The velvety voice called.
Mike jumped up and ran towards the huge doors.
“This way sir.” said a smiling cherub, pointing to a small side office.
Mike entered.

Again with the white. Mike thought, looking around.
Sitting behind a plain, plastic desk was a well-dressed clean-cut man. Two huge wings were tucked neatly behind him. He threw a thick file on the desk, looking angrily at Mike.
“Good read?” laughed Mike, pointing towards the file.
The angel didn’t laugh. He gave Mike the thumbs down. Mike slowly began to descend. The office faded. Mike could feel the flames already. He knew he should have brought some marshmallows.

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