Because Maybe Hallways are Meant to be Places to Sit

The sunlight shone on her eyes. She did not want to wake up. It was late, seven o’clock. The mess spread through the room like a natural disaster. Although she didn’t like it, there she stood: dirty blond hair thin like blades cutting her face; a diagonal ending in the largest beige freckle in her face. Her green eyes pierced her own soul as she stared at herself in her imagination, like looking from above. Still, she could not describe what really laid there. Above her the coffered ceiling, golden, bronze– her room, a pantheon to the unknown. Thoughts kept running through her mind, without letting her know what they really meant, finally she paced to that dark room in front of her – the bathroom? A bird flowing down pierced the skyline – visible off the small glass window in her bathroom. All the while, she scanned the mirror in front of her with cunning eyes, the bathroom was silent. She thought about mourning the room, but it was not the best way to get things fixed. Her roommate, somewhere else, spent the night in the abyss of the last night and had never come back. Waking up was the simplest part of the day – though probably the most painful. Taking off yesterday’s máscara was tough; it wouldn’t budge. It was stuck. Felt like her eyelids would come off. She still wondered what had happened yesterday, her friend had played her a bad one. Memories were an obscure reminiscence. Her lips were chapped, yet the heart shape of they have makes them beautiful. The thinner upper lip rose a little at the middle, like a fricklash – a curvilinear gracious petal. Her lower lip fell in a continuous motion like a linen adorning her smile (which was only present when invisible). Any other time, like now, her smile curled down at the end; a thin specter of sadness could be seen in that finishing curve that would otherwise turn her gesture into a smile. Some sort of lack of expression, made her stop for a second as she stared at the mirror – a few seconds passed by – blank, nothing written in them. She didn’t want to think. She woke her self up from her awareness and realized she had slept wearing yesterday’s clothes. Her black linen shirt was shrugged. The crumbles were almost as hurtful as those on her forehead. All she yelled was: –– and the dove that had been staring at her from outside the tiny bathroom window fluttered errantly distancing herself. She reacted, like she did with everything. Her foot stomped the floor. It was like the entire place would collapse. In a hurry, she did not even change her jeans; her t-shirt almost ripped as it hurriedly slipped itself out of her chest and almost scratched her face, took off her contacts in a hurry – didn’t care – just threw them out; popped out her contacts, picked up her glasses, put a new shirt on as she charged unto the outside. The door that separated the messy room from the ominous hallway, slammed as she rushed down. Her ankle bent for a second; her hands raised and almost scratched the wall; her body continued to charge forward; her knee touched the floor, then her abdomen, her hands. _ her heel had broken. _ . She had forgotten to change shoes. _ . she yelled _. She ran back, almost limping. Impetuously, pushed the door aside, threw the shoes into the overfilling trashcan that laid somewhere in that corner of the room, she put on flats and then ran out in the same fashion. Work was a walk away. Two blocks. Already late. She saw her boss entering on the opposite side of the building. Running up the steps, hoping she was faster than the elevator- she rushed. Sat in her desk a thousandth of a second before the elevator’s bell rung. Her boss stepped out weary. But he couldn’t know! Automatic satisfaction, ease, she was not even sweating. He said hi to everyone, including her. Yet, as he stepped into his office he called her name, asked her into the office. Expectant, everyone outside just looked at the closed door. She stepped out 5 minutes later. _ . _ . _. _. She walked out of the office and sat in the hallway. A tear slipped down her cheek. It started raining. Or at least she thought it did. Sometimes it rained in the city and others it was just some strange unknown sound. The hallway was lit with a thousand bulbs – just 40 to be exact. The bulb over her face burnt in a faint “psst,” blinked, off. The rest of the hallway was just as bright as always yet as she looked up at the burnt bulb a drop fell on her face; it slashed the freckle on her cheek in two. It almost gave her the sensation of a burn; how unexpected. She stuck her head between her legs again. Then a million little drops fell on her. She stood up only to find her self nowhere. Little did she know that she was everywhere. See she didn’t move, everything was moving around her. Flashes of light, flashes of darkness. A call, a honk, a thousand voices. Images, a thousand folded rose, petals, fire. Her senses where overwhelmed. She couldn’t hold it anymore. She stood up, or so she thought. There was really nowhere to stand. She tried. But she fell. She was in her bed. Running to the restroom she threw up. A black mass. She looked at herself in the mirror – never did she see something scarier. Her mouth opened wider than it humanly could as the black thing splashed in the sink. It moaned with a mouth bigger than hers, sharp teeth. She stepped a hundred little steps back. Her hands open stretched trying to find somewhere to lie. The thing had somewhat of a human shape. A morphed hybrid of a human. The thing opened its mouth, and screeched. It was like a million people moaning in agony. She covered her ears and closed her eyes, fell to the floor attempting to cocoon out of time. The thing jumped unto the door, and stuck itself to it. She felt the door slam against her back and crawled out of the bathroom even though her left knee slipped and almost made her fall on her chin. The thing jumped from the floor up to the closed toilet – she didn’t think – she just reacted and closed the door. The thing jumped but as it slammed its body unto the door, the door crushed her foot. She pulled it in. The thing fell on the ground and screeched again. She managed to pull her foot out and close the door. She didn’t know what to do, but only one thing came to mind: a lullaby – her mother used to sing to her. She followed her mothers voice. It felt like a prayer. She did not know what this was, she did not even know who she was. Still, she continued singing. And the song she sung that day said something about sleeping well and that she did. Her body was tired. Her eyes closed. She woke up on her bed the next day, everything seemed to be clean, everything fixed. No messy corner, no broken shoes. The sun even pierced into her room from the window that had all this time been closed – outside, a dove, probably and maybe the same one from what she thought had been the day before, or the dream before; from before. It just stared at her. She woke up and noticed the bathroom door was closed. She could not remember what had happened. How she had ended up where she was. All she found was a feather- a freckled feather. She looked at herself in the mirror, after a sharp flashback of that disgusting mouth she had; She looked at herself in the mirror. They gleamed. A bright sparkle shone in her eyes. She had disappeared before and had just found herself – who was this? She did not know. But she was ready to find out. Because maybe an office is not meant to be a place to work, nor is a bed meant to be a place to sleep, and maybe hallways are meant to be places to sit.