White Tiles

She finds herself sitting on the frozen floor, it seems as if she never leaves. She feels content and yet, always finds herself surrounded by white tiles. The earsplitting bell rings in her ears. But seems to never move her from the tiles. She sits still. Voices chattering outside the tiles. Away from her, she won't be seen by them. The time moves on, she sits. Only moving to reach for a tissue. All the tissues in the world would never stop the waterfall of sorrow. The stillness of the tiles comforts her, she lives in her mind. Full of worry. Full of joy. Never truly happy nor sad. Cold shivers find their way across her body. She looks down at her hands. Remembering when they were in the company of warmth. It always seems to be cold at her ‘home’. Never temperate, as it was a lifetime ago.

She never hears them. She can’t hear them. She knows her warmth was taken away, yet still feels sufficient. She longs for the warmth. The white tiles never can gift tender embrace. She wishes for a different life. One where she will never face the distant frozen memories she seeks to abandon. Her head is pounding at the thought of the hospital. The slow drip of fluids entering her body. She struggles to stop the memories and shakes her head. As if she might just be able to clear them away.

Just be. She sighs. Breathe. She closes her eyes and slowly arises to a stand. Forgetting the coolness, she leaves the white tiles.





Only to find herself in a brick maze.