By Sonia McLamb

No one else was there, for once, but there was barely any stillness. Only three things existed in the room, other than herself. A couch. A television. A video game console. The only things in this life, and each was detestable in its own right. She pursed her lips, forced to take in the sights.

The couch: putrid, mildewy green, so dangerously soft that one who sat in it would never willingly leave. She never sat in it, for just that reason. Rather she sat on the floor, when her legs felt like they were about to give out. The television: old, about twenty years so, and the kind of grey where you couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be that way or if the color had decayed. It was on, too, showcasing nothing but a ceiling, and occasional blackness. It was also the only light in the room, casting a dim glow on the couch and the console and the rest of the desolate room. The console: grey like the floor, plain, and entirely uninteresting. The controller connected to it was the only thing worth touching in the room, since it controlled everything.

As detestable as those things were, it was the rest of the room that she had serious issue with. The walls, windowless, were static but nonetheless moving, patterns upon patterns enveloping into each other in a way that made you want to look away from them. To turn your back on the three objects in the room was to stare only at those walls, a risky endeavor. The room would seem to spin whenever she removed her gaze from those few stable objects, making her whole body stagger. The floors were incredibly vile too, not as convoluted as the walls but close. The carpet drawn into existence like a child had gone rogue with a sharpie marker.

Oh, and the ceiling. She really couldn’t forget about the ceiling. As if God herself had her eye hovering over the room, it was as black as night. Blacker, really, so dark that it seemed to envelope any light that was cast upwards towards it. As if nothing was actually up there at all, as if she could just fly up and out of the room, forever freed from the confines of it.


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