FlashNano25 Day 18
Prompt: It hasn’t snowed for 213 days
The room is always quiet.
The murmurs constant.
The monitors – they beep.
The air – how I long for fresh pine breezes or the perfumes of lilacs and roses or even the grit of car exhaust. Anything is preferable to this processed stuff sanitized with soap, rubbing alcohol, medications.
Sometimes there are grunts as they shift me from back to left, from left to back, back to right.
The blinds are always open and from my pillow I see a narrow strip of sky above the encroaching roofs of this foreign metropolis.
When they brought me here after the surgeries after the accident during the squalls after the party following the hours of meetings, phone calls, endless ennui, and the office banalities that once seemed so important, the sun was strong, the nights starry. Or at least that’s how it seemed.
One day fades, blue, gray, black. The machines tick. Another day begins.
Sometimes there are clouds. Sometimes rain. Sometimes there are faces that say we did this, and we did that and they show me pictures of beaches, babies, and once a photo at the mountain where they say we skied just days before the awful crash during that storm that came out of nowhere, the last of the season. But hopefully we’ll be on the slopes soon. Politely, they include me in this.
Supine, I blink and attempt to nod as breath whooshes through my tube, this two-bit piece of plastic pinning me to this prison, purgatory, half- life.
If I could speak, I would say I know better. The time for miracles has passed. It hasn’t snowed in 213 days.
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