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Green. A sickly blue-ish green in the tiniest splotch in the corner of the room. She looked at the pink suitcase she had in her hands and then back at the miniscule patch of nauseating green on her white wall.
Where did that come from?
Her suitcase was unaffected, in fact, perfectly pristine. She hadn’t moved it from its spot in her room for a couple months, but nothing about that warranted the appearance of something as alien as mold on her wall. It’s shape was amorphous, almost constantly changing, threatening to grow in radius and thickness. It was invading her wall, her clean room, her space .
She didn’t even realize her bubblegum suitcase was pressed up to her torso as she clutched it in her panic and anxiety. In a feeble attempt to address the intruder on her wall, she shoved the suitcase back into its cold, cramped corner.
Backing away and sliding down the opposite wall, the room felt cold. As if the walls were consuming her warmth and grasping to absorb her very being. She held her hands to her chest, her mind racing as to how to address the stain that tainted her once secure walls.
What am I going to do? Is it the pipes? How much money is this going to cost? Do I scrape it off? Do I have to redo my entire room? How do I get rid of it? How do I erase it?
How do I destroy you?
She gasped. She jumped and sprang into a kneeling position, hands against the wall. She stared at the corner, glaring at her suitcase. Glaring at the monster that hid behind it. And she suddenly felt that it was staring back at her, challenging her. She couldn’t see it, but she could certainly feel it. Realizing her back and hands were against the wall, she quickly stood up fully, clutching them to her chest again, spinning as she stared at the four, chilling slabs of plaster, steel, and pipes that made up her room. If she had stayed in that position any longer, she may have sunken into them. At least, that's how she felt.
She kept backing away. Taking slow steps backwards. She didn’t know where her feet were taking her. She was barely conscious she was moving.
Slam!
Her back hit her door, and she frantically moved her left hand across it’s wooden frame, grabbed the door knob, and flung herself out.
Screaming into her arms, she slides down the door and sits again with her knees tucked inside her. She tries to catch her breath and hopelessly clutches at her kneecaps, wanting to be anywhere else. Staring out towards the rest of her apartment, she looks for comfort in her miniscule kitchen and her barren living room. Finally breaking out of her position, she walks towards her kitchen and grabs for the counter, gripping it to be sure that it won’t fall apart in her grasp.
“Call from… unavailable. Call from.. unavailable. Call from…”
Jumping from the blaring noise from her landline she rushes to meet the unexpected alarm. She stares at the lit up blue screen of the machine, blankly reading over the letters, u-n-a-v-a-i-l-a-b-l-e. She pauses and reaches for the phone, but is interrupted by the intrusive tone allowing for a voicemail. Being met with nothing, she hangs her head low, allowing her hair to consume her vision, and stands for a moment.
Where she finally finds comfort is in a picture hanging from a magnet attached to her fridge, a picture of her friends and her at a party, touting gold paper crowns and laughing at something. She grabs it from the magnet and stares at it, wanting to go back to that moment, wanting to crawl back into her dress, her makeup, her heels, her self.