Fake Fingernails, or rather Green Lady

She sat there drumming her fingers on the glass coffee table in front of her. Looking apprehensively at the bustle around her; people walking into the office, sitting down, filling out paperwork, turning the papers clipped to clipboards around and continuing to answer the questions in the space provided, going back to the secret place, and then walking right out the front door. The woman watched for hours. She sat on the floor with her legs sprawled out under the coffee table. This coffee table was piled with health magazines strewn all across it. Occasionally one could see People or Cosmopolitan lying there among the mess of others. Some would snicker lightly and comment about them; they needed their knowledge on wellness in all areas, they supposed.

The woman was disheveled looking, with bright green painted fingernails. Her nails were long and thin but they resonated loudly in the silent waiting room as she tapped them on the glass surface of the coffee table. She wore an old pair of dark, worn jeans with a puffy leopard print coat. Even though it was warm and sunny outside the woman held a transparent mini umbrella among her house keys and lipstick. She did not carry a handbag, instead stuffing everything she had into her little coat's pockets. Although she didn't have much, her pockets still bulged with misshapen items. This woman did not drive, in fact, some believed she lived in the waiting room for she was never not there.

Nameless and disheveled she sat so innocently with the coffee table as her desk. People would notice her and give peculiar looks but no one ever breathed a word to this strange woman. And the woman never breathed a word to the people coming in and going out. She only watched them. Even the desk clerks allowed her to just sit comfortably where she did everyday, no one questioned her.

One morning a small boy walked into the waiting room with his father. They proceeded to to fill out the necessary paperwork and sat down close to the woman sitting on the floor with her bright green fingernails. The little boy watched her curiously. She swiveled her head, with difficulty, to face the boy. This was the first time she had been known to acknowledge those close enough to touch her, she always seemed to be looking at something more distant. The boy walked a step closer to her. Her gaze did not falter. Soon the boy was right up next to her face, she looked straight at him. She smirked slightly; she smelled of sweet peaches.

The boy blinked and as soon as he opened his eyes the woman had vanished. The little boy whipped around looking for this peculiar lady. She was nowhere to be found, in fact, it was rumored that the little boy had scared her into invisibility or perhaps death. Or perhaps, some reasoned, she was already dead and had finally accomplished what she'd come to that waiting room to do. No one knew her and no one ever knew why she had always been there. But she was never coming back.