Greener Grasses

Falling Higher

"Okay Mister Stilborne, if you'd just come in and take a seat, we can begin."

David Stilborne walked into the room, closing the door behind him. The room felt like walking into a lazy professor's study at sunset. The walls were painted a soft maroon, which gave way to mahogany furnishings on the curtained windows and walls. The glass windows were clouded and only let in a faint amount of orange-tinted light, despite it being few hours before noon. On the windowsill sat a small pot of dandelions, which were flanked by more calming, maroon curtains.

David turned his attention back towards the front of the room. The doctor before him was dressed in an old white coat, had dusty white cropped hair, a lumpy nose, wise, amiable brown eyes, and a friendly smile to match. Everything about his appearance seemed to set David at ease.

But something was off. The room, the lights, the smile. It was too friendly, too comforting. It was as if the absolute calming nature of the environment had backfired, and set him further on edge. It didn't help he was forced to be here. Everything about the situation was out of his control, and under the oversight of somebody else. At the very least, he was getting used to it.

The doctor took in David's features with a single breath, his unkempt rust-colored hair, his slightly angular, sunken face, and his dark green eyes, without betraying any emotion outside of a calm curiosity. The doctor was a professional, and a paragon of calm and controlled. He sat in an old light blue comforter which laid next to a large antique desk, a strange sight on this side of the city. Another two identical chairs sat near the dandelions, facing the first. The only other furniture in the room was an old antique wooden desk, pushed to the side of the room, just beyond the doctor's chair.

"I'd like to start off by saying that I'm not crazy."

"We're not here to argue who's crazy and who's not." "Let's start off at the beginning, alright?"

David sighed, stood a moment longer, then finally dropped into his seat. "Well, I guess it all started when I ran out of medication for the month. You see, I had been taking three pills instead of two, and that sort of leaves me a few days, short." David turned his attention to some papers on the Doctor's desk. The papers were of little significance, just seemingly random drawings, articles, and printed documents, none of which actually held David's interest, but served as a place to look, and keep his eyes from trailing to the comforting gaze of the doctor. "I keep telling them I need something stronger, and I wouldn't end up like this."

The doctor smiled as he shifted in his chair, leaning forwards on the desk. "How about something easier? Let's start with your name, then your current occupation."

David rolled his eyes. "My name is David Stilborne, and I'm with the Brink program."

"What does that mean, exactly?"

"Well, sometimes they take over my head, and I guess I do things..."

Looking away sheepishly, David added, "I'm not crazy."

"Alright. What do you do there? What is their purpose?"

"Well, I'm not really sure. It's some kind of medical research group, and I take whatever they hand me. That's pretty much it."

"Thank you. Now, what were you saying earlier? Three pills instead of two?"

"Like I was saying, I ran out of medication for the month..."

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Light.

Cold, harsh light.

Something, like stones, dug into David's back.