The bed, pushed against the wall, is empty, the blankets are thrown around. There s a black dresser across from the bed, its drawers are open. The door is shut. There s a lamp. Its light is pail.
Nothing is shiny, no reflections, no glares.
I am huddled in the corner still beneath my fuzzy brown blanket with the teddy bear designs and the holes from over use. I can t remember how long I ve had it, too long. It is pulled over me. There is only enough space for half my face to peer out. I m still scared of the soldiers and lions, hiding.