The white walls are bleeding, screaming. Blue lining and blooming white in every direction. Matching uniforms and smooth locking doors. Delicate dining and rotting corpses. Anarchy contained within a small building meant for royalty. The padded floors make every step comfortable. The constant cameras make every step unbearable.

The walls are peeling at the corners now. The blooming white rubbing into a faded grey, the blue lining transforming into a dim white caulk. These clothes I wear lose their vibe, and the door is diced into bars. The building grows smaller, and the lights go dimmer and dimmer.

These floors are the only thing that remain true.

Every direction, these comforting padded floors.