Going to the empty room unnerves as much as it excites him; a mix of every thinkable emotion swirling in my mind. Those four white walls echo his every thought, his every verbal musing. The thought of its omnipresence sent shivers down his spine; how can an inanimate being know him better than himself?
Closing his eyes as he felt the walls, he was jerked back into time where he faced a live feed of everything that was going through him now; the mother he wished he never neglected, the job he wished he never screwed up, the wife he wished he never abused. Those thoughts came like waves, drowning him alive, and he felt like he couldn't breathe, suffocated by his agonies and regrets.
He started envisioning a life without those mistakes; a happy family with his parents gardening in the backyard, kids fighting over the remote and a faithful wife busy preparing a hot meal for them. The warmth of that thought restored the glow back to his cheeks and the corners of his mouth did something they haven't done in a long time: fold upwards. Finally, there was something worth fighting for; his life wasn't finished with him. After a seemingly endless struggle in the pitch black tunnel, he could see a glimmer of hope in the form of a steady stream of light from beyond.
-and he opened his eyes to see the all too familiar white walls.
Oh that's right;
it was all just his imagination.
He turned off the lights and shut the door behind him as he dragged his feet out.
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