Aug. 12th, 2009

garnigal: (Default)
White walls, white floor, white clothes, stainless steel furniture reflecting white on white on white in a recurring spiral of bland and boring.

Cool air, but damp. The air conditioning is set extra high down here, and they keep turning on the water to rinse something away. Trying to keep the whites white.

Metal taste in the air. Not coppery, that would be too obvious. Does steel have a flavour?

Antiseptic lingers on the tongue like vomit. Bitter and strong and inescapable.

And Buffy yearns to scream as his black pen scratches out ‘Summers, Joyce’ on white pages. In triplicate.

March 2026

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