Dark night, cold tile. In the common room I perch on a gray vinyl chair.
A nurse with blue hair offers a pill in a cup. My stomach is empty, so she slips me two packs of graham crackers. A dark-haired woman hears the crackle of cellophane and smiles in my direction.
Graham crackers are like currency here in the psych ward, so I slip them into my pocket.
Two nurses join her. I am surrounded and led to a room with two narrow beds. One bed is mine; there are no sheets.
My roommate is snoring.
I curl into a ball and look out the window.
A nurse draws blood as the pill takes hold, and I slip into darkness.
this blade of grass
Haibun (c) 2017 MisLucja