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She looked out the window. This was a regular, newly learned habit of hers that she had picked up, whether out of paranoia, or of care she couldn’t say. She only knew that, as she checked the window once again, he was no where to be seen. She looked back to the vast plains of beige, surrounding the cramped corners of her personal asylum. This place was made up of fore walls, and not a single door, binding her into insanity, so to speak. She sighed again, for the fortieth time today, and tapped her fingers against the lone table, the only thing in this space that wasn’t beige. With nothing left to do, she slid down in her chair, just enough to continue drumming her fingers on the table’s surface, and she stared intensely at the ceiling. She started thinking, and also wishing that she could see him, just by glancing out the dusty window frame. She was wishing he would come again, hopefully to save her from imprisonment.
Three hours latter, she glanced out the window, hoping for the same, but expecting nothing. There was nothing to be seen again, unless you counted dry sand, and orange skies something to see, which she obviously didn’t. She had been watching at the same sky and same deserted plains forever. She sighed, and slowly got up to cross the room, only to check the thermostat, not that there was much else to do.
"Damnet" she hissed through her clenched teeth. The tiny screen was barley able to read, although not impossible. "The hottest this week." she sighed, her anger fading, for she expected nothing less. She looked bitterly up to the mocking beige walls, narrowed her eyes, and crossed the 105 degree room, back to the corner in which she banished herself. On her way, her off white pioneer skirt and straw sandals kicked up mass amounts of the orange dirt that made up the floor, staining the fabric. When she made it back, she slowly sank down the wall, and into her seat, sulking for the remainder of the day, although not before checking behind the thick dirty glass of the beckoning window, acting as a shield from the heat. She pressed her forehead against the glass. Unsurprised she sat; this was the last disappointment she could take.
- by bailybaby972 |
- Fiction
- | Submitted on 07/26/2009 |
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- Title: her deserted prison
- Artist: bailybaby972
- Description:
- Date: 07/26/2009
- Tags: deserted prison lonlyness despair
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