Free Fall

I was falling. Failing. Falling. Failing.

My limps spread out in an attempt to parachute through the white sky. Scared. Sky.

My cheeks were pinned out, spit hitting my eyes. Nose. Lips. Lashes.

I was a newborn fawn. I bucked my legs wildly. Curiously. Angrily.

My hands were unintelligent hooves. I desperately sought out.  Ladder. Hands. Touch.

The cement beckoned me, gravity shifted. Shifted. Scared. Shifted. Acceptance.

 I was awake. 

I kicked off the damp blankets and standing up, I pulled my robe on and walked across the room. The wooden planks soaked the blue light of the moon, sending dancing shadows to my feet. The streets were empty, glowing dully by the yellow street lamps. The sidewalks were wet from last night’s rain and the smell of cement wafted towards me, sweet and inviting.

I couldn’t say how long I stared out that window, but it must have been long enough to call attention.

“There you are! You were supposed to be in the dining rooms an hour ago Elaine. Derek is waiting for you,” Stranger said.

Stranger. Friend. Cat glasses. Red Lips. Red Wrinkled Lips. Old. I was old? I was young? Familiarity. Nameless.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I responded. I pulled my robe tightly across my chest and followed Stranger out the door. I glanced back at my room as we left and saw a plaque on the door. It read Elaine Richardson. 

We walked down a linoleum hallway. The ground was comforting in its familiarity. I proudly recognized all of its lines and smudges. I had a connection with the ground beneath me. When walking, my chin was always tucked down, eyes drifting to my toes. It was a force of habit, I could remember my father reprimanding me for this as I grew up. He would say, “Watch where you’re walking. There are beautiful things you are missing.” I couldn’t disagree more. The ground held intricacies and wonder for the imagination. The ground told me where I was stepping and left the mystery of what’s beneath it. I had more time to think when I looked at the ground; I had less eyes to look into and less smiles to mimic.

The stranger nudged me to a table and I sat down. She handed me a glass of water and a plastic cup of pills. Each pill was a different color; I called them anger, sadness, and happiness. I swallowed them in one go and looked around the room.

 Nine Tables. I counted nine tables. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9. Nine tables.

Three occupied by grey and wrinkled. One by a man in a blue velvet suit. I remember the suit. Not the man. Two women are in the corner. They wear blue, paper uniforms like Stranger.

“Elaine,” I turned around to see a redheaded man with long arms and a wide smile. 

I knew this man. He was familiar. Familiar fuzzy faced man. Familiar clean scent. Familiar chipped teeth. 

“So good to see you,” I exclaimed. I tried to not come off as clueless. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings for not remembering. I could tell that he didn’t buy my sincerity. His smile faded slightly. 

“How are you doing today?” He looked like a kind man. “Did you have anything to eat with your pills?” Now that he mentioned it, my stomach was sloshing uncomfortably. 

“Could you fix something up for me, Dear?” The man nodded and brushed my hair back. I could feel the frizz around my neck. It was straw. 

Stranger and Stranger #2 mingled. Mashed potatoes are my favorite. Butter. Yellow. Rich.

 From cows I eat butter. Cow meat. Beef. Never to be eaten.

The kind strangers return with a plate of steaming slosh. I munched on it quietly. I dipped my fingers into the potatoes, swirly them. The man wrapped my hands around a spoon. Its cold. I looked up finally, my lips covered in sweet butter and gritty starch. My eyes fixed onto the mans chest. He’s wearing a visitors name tag.

It read Derek Richardson. 

My hands began to shake and soon I’m falling. 

I was falling. Failing. Falling. Failing.

My limps spread out in an attempt to parachute through the white sky. Scared. Sky.

My cheeks were pinned out, spit hitting my eyes. Nose. Lips. Lashes.

I was a newborn fawn. I bucked my legs wildly. Curiously. Angrily.

My hands were unintelligent hooves. I desperately sought out.  Ladder. Hands. Touch.

The cement beckoned me, gravity shifted. Shifted. Scared. Shifted. Acceptance.