She sits alone cross-legged on the floor
her favorite blankies and toys that occupy her mind around her
the grown-up stuff shoved against the wall haphazardly
half in shadow, half in light
She gazes down the longer, darker part of the corridor
The doors at the very end now weathered and beaten with age, all closed
distant memories of those doors
either blowing shut with the sigh of missed opportunity
duct taped together and super glued after being smashed open
or slammed in the face when she dared to reach for the deceptive shiny knob and twist
With a small sigh, and a squeeze of her favorite bunny
burying her nose in the in the softness
the fur soaking up a few more stray tears as she closes her eyes for a moment
no one could see her face.. if anyone would have been there
twisting into a pouting, ugly, eye squeezing, body tensing spasm as sad, hopeless despair washes over her soul for a moment again
With a deep, hiccupy sigh… she schools herself
She shifts her attention to the doors immediately around her, looking at each one
More newly closed, she stares at the silent barriers
still raw but not flayed any more
the shadows only lightly playing across them
She can fool herself all day long
Her gaze slides to the shorter end of the corridor
only a few doors left
It’s brighter with less shadowplay
But the doors have nothing to draw her attention
She doesn’t look at them with interest any more
always aware of their presence
They hold no meaning
She looks soberly at the larger door at the very end
much closer now
Vision blurring as a tiny wave of longing creeps in
it can’t be much longer can it
She slides her gaze away
rubbing her face against Bunny one more time
opening her playlist
to combat the deafening silence in the corridor
She reaches for her Looney Tunes coloring book
and finds a nice picture of Taz
he will be orange with purple hearts today
outlined with glitter glue
And she will tape it up with all the other colorful crazy creations
on the walls between the doors
and as she contemplates the diminishing wall space
she wishes that her creations
instead of being wallpaper
or the reminder of slow seconds ticking by
would have rather been gifts
and seen with value
This girl in the corridor
Short Stories
Likes
931 Views
Share: