|So, when does the burning of the trash cans begin?~|
.:Sleep:..:Sleep:. by zyshi
“Please state your name for the record.” A man in a well-combed beard and large square glasses asked as he did with their every visit. The single silver stripe going nicely through the deep grey in his beard was always a peculiar sight to stare at. The room was sterile to look at; white coated all the walls, the table, and even the chair. Not to mention the patients all wore white clothes and rubber shoes as well. This might have been the only room where the white wasn’t yellowing in the creases, however. ‘They must keep it nice so patients feel more relaxed’, was the usual assumption.
“Jonathon Harris.” He leaned into the microphone, but it was pulled back a bit as he did so. The interviewer set his mug on the table, having just finished taking a sip of his black coffee. Note of the cracks in the glaze at the top and bottom of the white mug were taken.