I feel my toes go numb as my stride lands on the cold bare tile floor. Pondering the plain white walls with my tired eyes I find the window in the far corner.

It’s cold and crisp, the beginning of November.  Water trails down and makes its way across the window and sags for a minute before suddenly dripping off.

I hear voices of laughter reverberating back and forth outside the doorway, outside my world. They are humming.

My world has been changed, altered, attacked by a sickness. So sudden, everything spiraled out of understanding.

The monitors beep and prod the silence. The atmosphere fights within this room growing life and slowly pulling it away.

People run through the cold wet rain holding rain coats harboring within their cars. Their world from my window looks so simple. Outside my world they are humming.

Everyone around me, within these walls grow disheartened. They entire this room and the bags beneath their eyes grow visible; the steadiness of their voice becomes unsure.

This room is almost as unbearable as this sickness turning everyone despondent. But outside my room it is humming.   

And here I am stuck within this sick body and these cold walls listening to the tubes as they pump air into my lungs.

 This is my reality. Waiting, and looking through the window while the machines disturb and vibrate throughout the walls.

In my world, I am humming.


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