Gone
And thus I found myself. Wandering corridors, peering through windows. There seemed to be something happening in every room, but I knew I wasn't there for any of them. Perhaps I was in the wrong building entirely. I would have left had I even known how I got there in the first place. For someone who doesn't believe in fate, I said to myself, you certainly are trusting to it somewhat now. I acknowledged this comment and carried on walking. There was a sickly green glow up ahead, radioactive, like a hospital gone wrong. Then I realised that I was in a hospital. The windows to outside were boarded up, wherever I was it had been abandoned for some time now. Whoever we were brought here to make up its inhabitants we were interlopers. Squatters at best.
My legs were getting tired as I got to the top of another flight of stairs. There were people crying in the rooms of this floor. People holding them as the quivvered and sobbed. I knew, somehow, this was where I was supposed to be. But I'm okay, I said out loud. We all are, came the reply. I turned around. A girl was sitting on the floor next to an open door. She stretched her legs out and her toes brushed against the wall of the other side of the corridor. We've all lost somebody, she continued, but we're fine. Then she lowered herself to the ground, head perched on elbows and arms, and looked me in the eye. With a whisper she said, this time I didn't even cry.
Oh. That was the last thing I said. She got up and walked over to me, her expression was soft and compassionate. She felt sorry for me. I didn't know I'd lost anybody but I could tell she knew something I didn't. And soon enough, I'd know too. She lead me into the room, another neon bath of nauseous strip lighting. Thirteen weary heads turned towards me. They all smiled. Poor me. Poor, poor me.
My legs were getting tired as I got to the top of another flight of stairs. There were people crying in the rooms of this floor. People holding them as the quivvered and sobbed. I knew, somehow, this was where I was supposed to be. But I'm okay, I said out loud. We all are, came the reply. I turned around. A girl was sitting on the floor next to an open door. She stretched her legs out and her toes brushed against the wall of the other side of the corridor. We've all lost somebody, she continued, but we're fine. Then she lowered herself to the ground, head perched on elbows and arms, and looked me in the eye. With a whisper she said, this time I didn't even cry.
Oh. That was the last thing I said. She got up and walked over to me, her expression was soft and compassionate. She felt sorry for me. I didn't know I'd lost anybody but I could tell she knew something I didn't. And soon enough, I'd know too. She lead me into the room, another neon bath of nauseous strip lighting. Thirteen weary heads turned towards me. They all smiled. Poor me. Poor, poor me.