The day started with nothing. Marie's days always started with nothing. No eating, no drinking, no breathing, no interactions of any kind. Marie was alone.
Marie sat in the far right corner of the unfurnished loft-style apartment, arguably the best corner of the room. She had a perfect view outside through the window on the left side of the room, with the foggy glass and cracks running in every direction. But it was the only one that looked out on the town. If she was lucky, she could watch the sunrise as bright colors streaked the sky.
Marie was not lucky today. It had been raining non-stop, pounding on the roof five floors up and running down the windows. Marie knew there would be no bright colors shining through the window when the morning hours approached. And she was right. Around eight o'clock in the morning, eight hours into her day, Marie stared at the gray wall of clouds on the horizon. The only color in Marie's vision was the golden strands of her hair flowing in and out of her vision.
Two days ago, the Maitland was bustling with activity, flashing blue lights pulling Marie out of her constant state of being zoned out. Marie got up for the first time in what seemed like years, and peeked outside to see a crowd gathered outside the painfully boring apartment building and even more bland parking deck. That day, people were walking up and down the hallway outside the apartment, luring Marie outside.
Marie walked through her door, through the crowd of people clogging the hallway and flew down the stairs. Out the door she went, following the curious townspeople to the yellow tape, her unbeating heart breaking for Mr. Evans, the man that lay dead. As a single tear glided down her face, Marie looked up.
On the other side of the tape, there stood Mr. Evans, grief-stricken and hurt while staring at his own dead body. His mouth was moving, repeating two words over and over. Marie couldn't exactly make out was he was saying. Mr. Evans looked up at Marie as he faded from view.
Marie thought nothing of what he was whispering, she was too caught up in her own sorrow. Another one had disappeared on her. No one else was stuck here like her.
Marie was a ghost. And Marie was alone.
Marie sat in the far right corner of the unfurnished loft-style apartment, arguably the best corner of the room. She had a perfect view outside through the window on the left side of the room, with the foggy glass and cracks running in every direction. But it was the only one that looked out on the town. If she was lucky, she could watch the sunrise as bright colors streaked the sky.
Marie was not lucky today. It had been raining non-stop, pounding on the roof five floors up and running down the windows. Marie knew there would be no bright colors shining through the window when the morning hours approached. And she was right. Around eight o'clock in the morning, eight hours into her day, Marie stared at the gray wall of clouds on the horizon. The only color in Marie's vision was the golden strands of her hair flowing in and out of her vision.
Two days ago, the Maitland was bustling with activity, flashing blue lights pulling Marie out of her constant state of being zoned out. Marie got up for the first time in what seemed like years, and peeked outside to see a crowd gathered outside the painfully boring apartment building and even more bland parking deck. That day, people were walking up and down the hallway outside the apartment, luring Marie outside.
Marie walked through her door, through the crowd of people clogging the hallway and flew down the stairs. Out the door she went, following the curious townspeople to the yellow tape, her unbeating heart breaking for Mr. Evans, the man that lay dead. As a single tear glided down her face, Marie looked up.
On the other side of the tape, there stood Mr. Evans, grief-stricken and hurt while staring at his own dead body. His mouth was moving, repeating two words over and over. Marie couldn't exactly make out was he was saying. Mr. Evans looked up at Marie as he faded from view.
Marie thought nothing of what he was whispering, she was too caught up in her own sorrow. Another one had disappeared on her. No one else was stuck here like her.
Marie was a ghost. And Marie was alone.
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