Waiting.

The hollow shell of the off-white walls brightly drenched in stark fluorescent light. Eyes throb from staring at the tan and gray specks in the polished floor.

How long has it been?

There are no telling hands in sight, only blurred watery eyes’ perception from strange faces that come and go. Body says it has been hours; mind says an eternity.

When will this be over?

Artificial

The world is different under the artificial lights of night; shadows aren’t themselves and colors are not true.

The moon is the only constant reflecting true light; but it wanes and waxes with the tides of our artificial lives.