Suspicious Looking Person or Article

So my Monday plans finally happened. I did not sleep very well so I woke up still feeling tired. Instead of sleeping in though I left the bed with John still in it. Being pissed from the lack of sleep I was an ass towards John. He had not slept well too but instead of letting him sleep another fifteen minutes as his alarm was put to I rolled up the curtain and turned off the AC. I have no idea why I did this. It was really mean. I was not thinking. He said it was okay when he eventually came up and I apologised for my shitty behaviour.

With that in mind I felt strange when I walked to the subway. It was like I could not connect to the people around me. My legs felt stiff like they were made of wood and I constantly had to remind myself to relax. I felt even worse when I imagined what I looked like for the people (who probably did no care) around me with the speaker saying things like if you see a suspicious looking person or article, please report... It was an uncomfortable ride where I felt like I had possessed myself and tried to act normal.

When I got to the building where the Embassy of Sweden is I stood in the elevator with my heart racing. I could literally hear it beat much faster than it should. Was I nervous? Was I scared? Was I acting suspicious? Either way, I must have sounded pretty far away when I told the not-speaking-Swedish woman at the Swedish Embassy that I was there to pick up my passport. She asked for my old passport, which I handed over, and walked away to get my new passport. She showed it to me and I tried to take it from her, but then she asked me to sit down and wait. She needed to verify the new passport in the system.

I wonder why this had not been done before I arrived. Did I really need to sit here and wait while she did her job? Something that did not require me to be there. I waited for fifteen minutes! It is not a long wait but it felt like it when I 1. had expected to enter, take the passport and leave, 2. felt like a suspicious looking person or article and 3. had other plans (like eating lunch for example). Eventually I got called, not by the woman but by the Swedish man sitting in the next window. He explained that this was my new passport, yes yes I know that, and that the old passport now is invalid, yes yes I understand that, and that he was going to give me both of them, yes yes we agree on that. He made me sign my name while the passport lay in this awkward dent under the glass that separated us. It did not come out nice. Neither did my first signature, but it does look like I wrote it at least. Looks like I spelled my name with a u. Ellinur. Such is life. At least it looks like I have some colour in my face as opposed to the old one.

I exchanged very few words with the man behind the glass. I could not shake the feeling of acting strange so I was eager to get out of there, having spent too much time already staring at the same page for ever in a magazine while waiting. But the man had other thoughts. He was thinking to be friendly, as many Swedes tend to be. He says my address, not successful in sounding friendly but more snoopy, and asks if it is nice there. I say we like it there, indicating my not-so-present boyfriend (but the man behind the glass surely knows all about him, right?) and it feels fresh. Of all the words to use to describe a condo, maybe fresh was not the right one. Either way, I then realise that last time I was here when I wrote my address on the application paper where he clearly got it from I never mention d'Leedon, just Leedon Heights. This man probably thought I lived in one of those very luxurious villas with huge gardens that grace the sides of the address I gave. Oh, well. Our conversation was over. I thanked for my passport and left in a hurry. I stopped just outside the secure door and snapped a quick photo, still feeling suspicious for doing it when leaving the embassy. For some reason I had the idea that it would not be okay to take that photo. Super secret location of the Swedish Embassy. What was I thinking?