Tea with a Side of Anxiety || Ahyeon & Ai
Her breath was lowly toned, coming in and going out so slowly one could easily perceive her as dead were she not sitting with noticeably erect posture. Her stillness was forced to the point of shaky fingers, and her eyes were fixed upon the table surface as if she were pondering the furniture's universal value. Ahyeon's hips shifted uncomfortably as the sound of laughter feet away presented itself like it were only centimeters from her ear. The breath of a nonexistent stranger caressed the side of her neck as she licked her drying lips. The walls surrounding the complex had already tried to close in, but ultimately failed due to the condensed crowd.
Without meaning to, the brunette could easily pick up any and all conversations, voices, and tones. The scent of locals took over any smell the passing food would have given off. By this time, only one question held itself above all others.
How could a restaurant grow so congested so quickly?
Not long before it was only evening and empty seats were still giving the young woman comfort. Within an hour, though, all feelings of content had vanished when the female was no longer able to even locate the exit.
In efforts to distract herself by the growing pain in her head; chest; and stomach, she took a strand of her own hair between her fingers and began to twirl it slowly. It was a method which could generally calm anybody – even her. However, it was mere seconds before even that turned stressful. Ahyeon's fingers grew impatient and bored; they began twirling quicker, and eventually began pulling the chosen lock. With a sigh she let go and press that same palm onto her fabric-covered thigh.
It might have been silly, but in her eyes it was a matter of self-preservation as she stared at her own ankles that swung carelessly beneath the table. She knew of her own claustrophobia, but wouldn't she feel more comfortable where there were less people to breathe?
Feeling obligated to take the chance, Ahyeon slowly slid down the back of her chair, grasping the edge of the table for support. As her bare knees met the cold floor, they also became acquainted with a sticky substance.
While she was ready to take the chance of a seizure, she was not willing to put her sanitary status in danger.
“Okay, nope,” she commented to herself before quickly pulling her weight back up into the chair.
A pair of chestnut irises scanned her side views in case anyone happened to be watching her. Catching a glimpse of the sky's darkening shades outside, she briefly hoped there would be less people by the time she would need to leave for the cirque's performance that night. As her eyes continued skimming customers, they eventually laid upon a set of orbs staring back at her.