The clouds glide by and wind rushes across my face. The tree tops are below and freedom is above. My soul expands into the blue room and I leave my weight behind.
“Ms. Martinel,” a voice says.
The clouds recede and the trees retreat. The metal window frame limits my world and broken glass crunches underfoot. I stare straight at the gray wall topped with barbed wire that is outside my window.
“Can’t you have anything nice?” the voice says.
I sigh. I breeze slips across my cheek. I think it will be a long time before I feel that again.
Bearing Untold Stories 