Passage from my writing

This is an unedited and very rough draft. Comments are welcome. :)

As I walked up to the training headquarters, I felt small and inadequate. I couldn’t believe I was here finally. The tall, indistinct gray building loomed over me, making me question my choice of being here. I felt the same familiar prickle on the back of my neck. I paused and glanced around looking for the source. I haven’t learned to trust my instincts at all times, but this time it was stronger than ever. Someone or something here had an extremely malicious mind set. I just pushed the feeling aside, figuring they probably had prisoners held somewhere near. I gathered myself, held my head high and marched myself through the revolving glass doors. Once inside, I took a deep breath and headed towards the receptions desk. A young man, late 20s sat at the desk, looking like someone had kicked his dog. I approached him with my best smile and said, “Hi! I’m a new recruit and I’m looking for the orientation room.” He huffed, rolled his eyes, then raised his gaze to meet mine. I was instantly paralyzed by his copper colored stare. My body hummed with alertness. He eyed me head to toe, he was grinned, a cocky quirk of his lips and said,” You sure you’re in the right place, squirt? I do believe we have a height requirement.” I bristled at the name. I’ve always been short. Just under five feet, it’s my one sore spot. I steeled myself, and returned his icy glaze, “Yes, I am in the right place. My name’s Sam McCoy. I should be listed as a new recruit.” He squinted back at me, and turned to the computer. I watch as he types with a determined look on his face. He pauses, eyes racing over the screen. He stops looking puzzled, glances at me and then back at the screen. He turns and looks me in the eye, “Can I see some identification, please?” I roll my eyes and pull out my wallet. I hand over my ID and wait. He glances at my ID, to me, to the screen, “Samantha McCoy? We only have a Sam McCoy in the system.” Trying my damnedest to not scuff at him, “My full name is Samantha McCoy, I go by Sam. Just check the birthdate. I’ll even give you my social if you don’t believe me.” He looks over the at the computer screen, his eyes widen, and says, “birthdate, please?” “January 10, 1987.”

“Huh, okay. Welcome to Quantico, Ms. McCoy, “ he replies. ”Sorry about the misunderstanding,”