I stare into the blankness of these white walls. Waiting. Searching. The heaviness of the abyss in my soul continues to corrupt my every thought. My body, as skinny as a limb of a bear and as still as a boulder in the quiet desert, lies on my left side upon the plush, white futon. My dry, bright blue eyes search the room for any evidence of mistake within the room. Where am I? How did I get here?
I raised up, propping myself up by my elbow. I balled up my right and and gently rubbed my eyes with the side of my index finger. I took in a deep breath and sighed, wetting my dehydrated lips with the tip of my tongue. My eyes searched the room again, and caught ahold of the disguised end table and cup beside the bed. I reached out for the cup, and felt it's contents slightly weighing it down as I lifted it up. I sat up as I brought it closer, peering down to find water slowly bouncing. Should I drink this or leave it be? I thought, tilting my head to the side.
YOU ARE READING
A book of short stream-of-conscious stories that entertain the mind. Feel free to comment on your favorite part, questions, and if you think I should make a full story out of one of them, just vote or comment. Which ever gets the most requests will...