Piece of paper - con't
When I could see each fiber, each thread of Kermit's collar. Only then I let myself sleep again, when every thought but a single thread had left my mind.
I woke up and found a pile clothes. A pair of cut off jeans, and a t-shirt. They were folded neatly, and left in a pile by my feet. There was also a new pair of trainers, and brand new socks. They fit perfectly and snuggly. I folded my old ones and left them in a pile. Maybe someone - something? - would take them for dry cleaning.
I had a set daily plan by now. Wake up, start jogging, back and forth for twenty, twenty-five, thirty laps of the prision, as I had come to think of it. Advancing the number by five every day. Then I'd do press-ups, and sit-ups. Muscles ached all over me, but I kept on. It had to be good for me.
I didn't bother to try and see beyond the inside of my mind anymore. It might have been months since I saw natural light, or days. I didn't think to keep a mark of each time I spelt and woke, and by now it was too late. Not that I had anything to mark with.
I sit with my back against the wall and find another memory. This one is just a pair of feet, in flat bottomed shoes with laces. One loop of the lace is longer than the other. The second lace has a freyed end. A speck of dirt sits on the very front of the right white sole of her shoe. A single speck by itself, the rest is perfectly clean. Purple trainers with white soles. Moving up, there's thick tights, of green and white stripes, the green stopping dramaticly each time it alternates to white. The skirt above wasn't red, and wasn't pink. It was almost salmon, slightly darker. The hem was sewn with red thread. Above that was a cardigan, with the lowest button missing.
I watched the image, and began focusing in, and in. Thread still poked from the knitting where the button had popped off.
I was getting good at single image memories.
I'm tired from remembering. I think I'll sleep again.
Ever goofy,
Scoot