A/N: This is weirdly serious I guess. Just a one shot about Schmidt.
Schmidt began pacing the lobby with each of his feet, adorned in expensive leather shoes, stepping carefully with the heel touching down first. His bag was sitting on the floor carelessly and his box of 'clothing women had left behind' sitting iconically to the right of him in its own monotonous chair. Schmidt wanted to feel special, like he was a rare exception to the tell tale tragedy that many men had faced before him. But just like the clinic's waiting area, he too was just another indifferent (thing) in an unfortunate situation, quite unvaried from the next.
His hands remained hidden in the depths of his pant pockets; only noticeable because of the slight impressions his knuckles made on the outside of the material. His mouth was upturned, matching his furrowed eye brows that just escape the perimeter of his intense eyes as they circled the room; waiting. He had downgraded from a blazer to a dark navy sweater earlier that day at his apartment, however his matching gold trim tie remained tight around his neck.
There was one difference between himself and most of the confused and anxious men that had passed through here many times ago and Schmidt took great pride in it. Or however much pride he could still muster. His hair was perfect. There wasn't another word to describe it. The front gelled slightly to the right after swinging upward instead of covering his pale forehead; the sides pressed firmly against his head, and the back evenly cut with precision down to the last hair.
He took great pleasure remembering this detail fondly before returning to pace the room again. He was alone for a long time. Thirty minutes passed with just himself, his bag and his box in the small waiting room. So many more important tasks and events could have taken place in that time, but alas, he lacked the choice to be there.
"Mr. Schmidt, you're girlfriend is finished up in there. You can come in now." The nurse said leaning against the dark oak doors that loomed at the other side of the room.
Schmidt wanted to interject at the word 'girlfriend', but refrained at the thought of the looks the nurse and doctor would most likely give him.
"Yeah, coming." He said glancing at his box of things on the chair.
"Are you going to take in your brief case and box?"The nurse asked glancing over in the direction of Schmidt's box.
Schmidt hesitated for a second before looking to the oak doors and back to his box.
"Yeah.. I'm ready." Schmidt responded walking over and picking up his bag.
"It's a satchel actually." he commented to the nurse as he passed by her, leaving the room and box behind him.