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The cold tile floor, a pale cream, maybe it’s linoleum… I’m wearing socks, but the cold is seeping up into my toes
and making my legs feel numb and lifeless.
Lifeless… like the rest of this door-less, window-less room.
Wait, a window is in the back, or maybe you could call it a mirror. I’m sure there is someone behind it, maybe
multiple people back there… marking things on confusing papers clipped to their fancy clipboards.
I feel like I’m floating just a tad, little enough to leave my toes still touching that cold linoleum.
There are round tables, maybe twelve… I can’t focus on the numbers when I try to count them, and my mind is
screaming at me. Couples sit at a few of the tables and I’m driven to approach them.
How odd I think, reaching into one certain young woman’s pocket to grab a pill bottle. Her hands immediately
grasp mine, her long and sharp nails digging into my skin as I pry the bottle away. As soon as it leaves her, her
fingers relax and her eyes clear. She is seeing me for the first time. She is seeing the now luminescent orange
bottle. She shivers and pushes it away, grabbing onto her – according to their rings – husband.
He gladly accepts her into his arms as tears silently well up in his eyes. He got his wife back.
I move on, leaving them to bask in the warmth of simply being near one another.
The second couple is harder to manage, the woman sits on the opposite end of the table, arms crossed to block the
world out. Her husband is pitifully slumped over the table.
No, not slumped over the table, but a magazine. I try to grab it from him, but his hands are strong and rip
desperately at the pages, just trying to maintain a small bit of what it was. The work is tricky, for to fix this I must
take every scrap of paper. I slide my nails under his so I may pull every bit of paper from him. As I do, his eyes
light up and fall on his wife. He knows her, and sees her now. He recognizes how beautiful she is. He must feel so
lucky… I’m glad I could help.
I place my hand on the woman’s brow and watch as her face relaxes and she takes in the sight of her happier,
transformed, husband.
That wasn’t the end. I visited other couples too, but I couldn’t count. My focus wasn’t on how many, it was
on “How may I help you?”
Thank you all and enjoy!
The cold tile floor, a pale cream, maybe it’s linoleum… I’m wearing socks, but the cold is seeping up into my toes
and making my legs feel numb and lifeless.
Lifeless… like the rest of this door-less, window-less room.
Wait, a window is in the back, or maybe you could call it a mirror. I’m sure there is someone behind it, maybe
multiple people back there… marking things on confusing papers clipped to their fancy clipboards.
I feel like I’m floating just a tad, little enough to leave my toes still touching that cold linoleum.
There are round tables, maybe twelve… I can’t focus on the numbers when I try to count them, and my mind is
screaming at me. Couples sit at a few of the tables and I’m driven to approach them.
How odd I think, reaching into one certain young woman’s pocket to grab a pill bottle. Her hands immediately
grasp mine, her long and sharp nails digging into my skin as I pry the bottle away. As soon as it leaves her, her
fingers relax and her eyes clear. She is seeing me for the first time. She is seeing the now luminescent orange
bottle. She shivers and pushes it away, grabbing onto her – according to their rings – husband.
He gladly accepts her into his arms as tears silently well up in his eyes. He got his wife back.
I move on, leaving them to bask in the warmth of simply being near one another.
The second couple is harder to manage, the woman sits on the opposite end of the table, arms crossed to block the
world out. Her husband is pitifully slumped over the table.
No, not slumped over the table, but a magazine. I try to grab it from him, but his hands are strong and rip
desperately at the pages, just trying to maintain a small bit of what it was. The work is tricky, for to fix this I must
take every scrap of paper. I slide my nails under his so I may pull every bit of paper from him. As I do, his eyes
light up and fall on his wife. He knows her, and sees her now. He recognizes how beautiful she is. He must feel so
lucky… I’m glad I could help.
I place my hand on the woman’s brow and watch as her face relaxes and she takes in the sight of her happier,
transformed, husband.
That wasn’t the end. I visited other couples too, but I couldn’t count. My focus wasn’t on how many, it was
on “How may I help you?”