The First Bed (Personal)

I guided my eyes around the room searching for a happier sight. There isn't. The only thing remotely uplifting about that place is the heavily barred window at the far corner. It is the only way I could get out the house without having to pass by them in the hall again.

Yes, I would need a saw and it might get a little messy but given the circumstances, I was even ready to chip through the bars with a blunt toothpick. That was the sharpest object I could find in the room. The management was strict. Come to think of it, I was surprised that they would let anything with edges into the vicinity. I bet if they could have it their way, they would have all their furnitures in the shape of a sphere. A spherical cupboard, a spherical coffee table, a spherical bed.. though it would be rather hilarious to see someone sleep on one.

As I was lifting the side of my lips to form a smile, a series of dry coughs interrupted me. My attention turned to the elderly lying restlessly on the second bed. When I realised that at anytime her next cough could be accompanied by an ounce of blood, I quickly threw my stare to another old lady on the third bed. I was safe. That is until she started speaking to me in an undecipherable dialect. I didn't know what to do and I started to panic.

Suddenly, my eyes ran out of places to hide. I didn't know where else to look anymore. I excused myself and power walked my way out of the room and past the hoards of aged people, all the while trying to keep my cool. When I finally got to the exit, I forcefully slid the doors open to reveal a much more familiar environment.

Unfortunately, the guilt I felt after was really deep. I didn't spend enough time with her in that room, neither have I spent enough time with her while she still remembered who I was.