The Room

I'm sat in the middle of the room.

It is a room, not a warehouse.

Warehouses have those tin roofs, but this hasn't.

This room has a flat roof.

It's not a normal room though, this one has a really high ceiling.

As high as a warehouse, or aeroplane hanger.

But unlike a hanger, this room doesn't have a roller shutter across one of the walls.

All this room has is a small 4ft door.

The ceiling height must have be at least 15 ft.

It's hard to be sure of the height when it's as dark as this in the room.

It's the sort of room where you'd expect to find rats scurrying along the the floor.

But the only sound is my thoughts.

The sound of my thoughts is bouncing off the walls.

It's like there's an echo in the room.

Do damp rooms echo?

Would the wetness of the walls not absorb the wound?

Maybe the echo, as with the sound, is just in my head.

Maybe the whole room is just in my head.

Maybe I'm sat at work?

Who knows......

Comments

I enjoyed reading this. It's kind of like, you were thinking about something that the people around you can't see, yet you were doubting what you were explaining at the same time. You've left behind your trail of thought, from the beginning until the end. This room could be anything, because your letting your imagination run wild.