The redhead stepped into the blank white room, heels clicking against the tile floor. She set her black leather portfolio down on the plain white table and opened it, placing a single purple pen on top of a blank lined page. Staring at the comfy white armchair across the table from her, she let her gaze drift to the door on the opposite wall from where she entered.
A smile curved her red lips, and she let her glossy plum-painted nails tap against the surface in anticipation. Soon. Soon the subjects would come in, one by one, and she would discover their wackiest quirks, their grandest desires, their deepest fears.
She left the notebook on the table and turned, turning out the light on her way out of the room. Her smile grew as a slight spring came to her step.
She couldn’t wait.