Monochromatic.
That was the very first word Mitchell could think of as his vision readjusted itself.
White walls. White cama sheets. White flooring. White hospital uniforms.
So colorless.
Mitchell hated this room. Dreaded every segundo being in this room bleached of color; the only signs of life being the scribbling of a forgotten arco iris, arco-íris on the far wall.
Red. Orange. Yellow. Green. Blue. Indigo. Violet.
The as cores of life. The as cores Mitchell had long wanted to be basked in after his admittance from the hospital. as cores he long missed after years of wandering around por himself. as cores that he'll never appreciate again.
"Attack!" The single word broke through his thoughts as Mitchell found himself buried under piles of little kids and their travesseiro cases. If he didn't know any better, Mitchell would've thought this was a gang attack.
Mitchell moaned as a kid planted himself onto his lap and a few others tugged at his shirt.
"Tell us a story!" They chanted. "A story!"
The blonde could only sigh as the chant turned into a song and the children danced around him; forgetting their original purpose.
"Fine." He said as everyone cheered and sat down in a círculo around him.
Mitchell eyed all of them, tried his best to at least. Their hospital dresses blended in with the walls and their deathly pale skin didn't help at all.
He had to fight back the urge to throw up. So colorless…
But he was like that too… once.
That was the very first word Mitchell could think of as his vision readjusted itself.
White walls. White cama sheets. White flooring. White hospital uniforms.
So colorless.
Mitchell hated this room. Dreaded every segundo being in this room bleached of color; the only signs of life being the scribbling of a forgotten arco iris, arco-íris on the far wall.
Red. Orange. Yellow. Green. Blue. Indigo. Violet.
The as cores of life. The as cores Mitchell had long wanted to be basked in after his admittance from the hospital. as cores he long missed after years of wandering around por himself. as cores that he'll never appreciate again.
"Attack!" The single word broke through his thoughts as Mitchell found himself buried under piles of little kids and their travesseiro cases. If he didn't know any better, Mitchell would've thought this was a gang attack.
Mitchell moaned as a kid planted himself onto his lap and a few others tugged at his shirt.
"Tell us a story!" They chanted. "A story!"
The blonde could only sigh as the chant turned into a song and the children danced around him; forgetting their original purpose.
"Fine." He said as everyone cheered and sat down in a círculo around him.
Mitchell eyed all of them, tried his best to at least. Their hospital dresses blended in with the walls and their deathly pale skin didn't help at all.
He had to fight back the urge to throw up. So colorless…
But he was like that too… once.