The lead curtain closes me in. Block walls and a slab floor, my new home. Only a single patch of light remains. Too small to comfort. Too big a reminder.
A chill settles in my bones. Apathy for them lingers within, a numbness tingling in my nerves, a hint that perhaps one day I’ll care; one day I’ll miss the sun that will never kiss my skin, the rain that will never wash me clean, the whisper in the willows of the honeysuckle breeze.
Eyes closed, I wrap myself in darkness and set my imagination free. Planets spin from my fingertips, storms billow from my breath, mountains rise at my side, oceans lap at my feet. Lifetimes pass before my eyes, beckoning to my whim.
I huddle deeper, burrowed in the corner of my mind.
Alone in my cell, I dream.