Light slaps echo through the air as two pale feet donning worn brown flip-flops cross the tiled floor. Shapely legs carry their owner to a seat against a sterile white wall. Limp strands of pink fall over a too thin shoulder as equally bony fingers rake through the bright tresses.
Marble-like emerald eyes dart around the room through palid eyelids shielding against bright flourescent lights. They rest on a woman with an enlarged belly holding her sleeping boy close to her heart. Her eyes look tired but loving on the boy's tan face as she strokes his tousled brown hair.
Emerald eyes disappear under their lids as our observer turns her head to see a young couple. Young being an understatement. The boy looks to be about seventeen years old and the girl snuggling into his chest looks no older than thirteen. His pink lips move in the form of soothing words that fall on her small ears succeeding in assauging her tense form.
Our observer closes her eyes against the image as a feeling of guilt washes over her. Her hands twitch slightly at her sides and her now open eyes gaze at her purse with unbridled longing. Her head snaps up and she frowns at the blue and white sign that reads "No Smoking" that sits innocently on the wall. A sigh escapes her thin lips and she wraps her arms around her thin frame.
Her ears ring in tune with the hum of machines and the distant beeping of pagers in the next room. Her heart beeats in time with the lazy tap-tap of a pen against a desk. A cough tickles her throat but she dares not let it out afraid the sound would shatter the air around her.
Her brain pulses, seemingly to protest the thoughts racing through it and her hands itch to just reach into her bag and pull out the one thing that bolts her to reality. Subconciously, she reaches into her purse and pulls out her implement of escape.
Clutching to the little white box as if it is a lifeline, she stands slowly and grabbing her purse to her side. The door becomes closer and closer with each slap of her flip-flops.
"Miss Uchiha, you probably shouldn't be smoking. Dr. Sannin will see you now." The cold, detached voice chills her to the core and her heart races. She lifts her left hand up to her face as if to admire the perfect french manicure.
Her other hand shakes as she drops the cigarettes into her purse and slowly raises to touch her left ring finger. The gold band glints in the flourescent lights as it follows the cigarettes into her purse. She turns slowly and her face contorts into a fake smile as she begins to walk towards the nurse holding open the door for her.