I sat at the window and looked out

I sat at the window and looked out. My mind was blank. I glanced at the sheet of paper before me and that was blank as well. My gaze rolled upward toward the ceiling, and spied a dark, tree-like pattern just above my head. “Termites”, I muttered, making a face. “Well, it doesn’t matter really. Another half hour and I’ll be out of this dump”, I thought, looking at my watch for the hundredth time. I doodled as I waited aimlessly for time to pass itself. Even as I drew a flower, I thought of him in spite of myself. I cursed and threw my pen at the darkest and dirtiest corner I could spot. The doorbell rang just then. “What is it?” I snapped. “Room Service”, said a voice. “I didn’t order anything!” “There’s a letter for you, Miss.” “Put it under the door.” I rose heavily and went to pick it up. It was from the Agency. Something about my details being kept under the strictest of confidence unless I chose to disclose them. I crumpled it into a ball and tossed it into the corner after my pen. I absently went to sit at the window again, and stubbed my toe on the bed. And I don’t know what it was that stirred inside me that instant, but I was overwhelmed by a pain, not physical, not mental, but one that eats away at your insides and gloats as it does. I half sat, half collapsed onto the filthy sheets and was only dimly aware of the room starting to spin around me.