The windows don't let much sunlight in this time of year.
I lean against the radiator to keep myself warm. There is very little in this room that keeps me warm now that winter is pushing its way through. There's a mug of hot coffee on the side table but it's quickly becoming cold. The thought of drinking lukewarm coffee isn't very appealing.
The four walls feel like they're cracking and the ceiling about to come down over my head. I've got the sniffles, you see - the world always feels like it's going to end when you're ill. I sit against the radiator feeling sorry for myself.
My throat feels hoarse - I've lost my voice. I can't speak and haven't spoken to anyone in awhile. I'm not inundated with text messages or emails from people wondering where I've gone to. No one knows I'm ill and house-bound so it's a wonder why they aren't wondering about me.
I look at the door, wishing I would hear a knock from someone who's worried about me. But there's nothing. And as the sunsets and the winter cold bites even more, I've given up hope that there will be a knock on the door. My head is now pounding and I don't think I can sit up any more. I lie down and close my eyes. I can hear a dog barking outside the house and a car zooming by but that's about it.
There's still no knock on the door and no one to care for me.
No comments:
Post a Comment