by Sparks In Shadow
Balloons, a high sea of indiscriminate hues, dot the boulevard, straining upward from straw-colored strings. Afraid for the birds, I walk away rubbing my hands, warming the tips of my soul, as the memory of mimosa reaches my nostrils. I hold my hands to my face to inhale more, navigating through parted fingers toward the museum’s entrance. I haven’t planned to see the canvas, but I drift inside to escape the visual cacophony outside.
Searching through galleries, unknowing, I walk into a white room and find myself alone on a wall, naked, swathed in sadness for posterity. I’d been seen.
Breathe. Now. Learn to hide.
The prompt was, “I walk into a white room” — from Lisa.