by May Belle Inksmith
I blink my eyes slowly. I rub my eyes and see the ceiling. Same as ever.
As I start to wake up, I glance at my calendar. The date today is my birthday, isn’t it?
I peer around the room. No different today either: one room, one door, a clock, and a calendar. Nothing else. I walk over to my calendar and look at the date. Yeah, it’s definitely my birthday.
Then I stand in front of the door, waiting. What am I expecting by waiting here?
Still, I stand here and wait. My only way of telling how long I’ve been waiting for is the clock.
Tick, tick, tick.
Nobody will come through the door, I know that… I did lock it myself, after all.
Yet still I will stand here and wait. Maybe today someone will knock?
I close my eyes and listen, hoping.
Echoes of laughter?
I open my eyes quickly and turn around, looking desperately around the small room, but the laughter came from somewhere far away, outside this door.
Hope vanishes, replaced with utter loneliness.
Slowly I reach for the door handle. I want to join those laughing voices out there.
As I close my hand around the handle, I hesitate. I let go. It’ll be fine, I try to smile. Next year it’ll be different, someone will open the door. I just have to keep waiting.
I cross the date off my calendar. I just have to wait a little bit longer.