The Room

A door opens and sunlight streams in. A slab of yellow on a stone floor. I stare at the surface, thrown into relief by the slanted beams, and see it for the first time.

The room seems, for a moment, crowded. Alive, even. Yet I gaze blankly at the floor, until the door closes and the light disappears.

All is shadows now.

I move slightly, shifting in my seat.

I am cold, and I shiver involuntarily.

How long have I been here? I don’t remember arriving, or being anywhere else. Other places, if they exist, are just half-recalled dreams.

I’m not aware of the passage of time, and I don’t remember night falling.

Surely the door must have opened and closed for a reason. I heard voices coming from somewhere. Then nothing.

Perhaps I am in a prison, or something like one. At least I know I cannot leave.

I can feel it coming. Death, that is. It is seeping into me like a black light, filling me with darkness.

Or maybe this is the only place where I will ever truly be alive.

Either way, I know I will live and die here.