I would never forget how time slowed down as the sun would hover over the grass, morphing the cobalt sky into a million shades of vermillion, before the temperature dropped and the colors cooled into a single tint of azure.

It'd be at this point and time, when the clock's hand began to stagger toward the next number, and the next, and the next, until they stopped altogether, and slumber would begin to seep through the cracks in the wall. Silence encased the atmosphere first, occasionally followed by the sound of snoring patients as the light beneath my door flickered out. Only then would the room start to shift. The floor splinters apart and swallows the oak wood desk in the corner, molding it into an empty chair before spitting it back out again. Dust specks billow from the floorboards, dancing in the halcyon atmosphere before fusing together, molding into limbs, hairs, shoulders, cheeks, and eyes, deep dark speckled brown eyes, just like mine.

I'd silently observe as the being nestled herself into the chair and slipped out a book, the same one every time.

'The Infinite Moment of Us'

The smell of charcoal  permeates the entire room the minute that book unveils itself from under her coat. It's spine was charred to ashes, the threads fraying from the sides threatening to let the pages loose. The burns on the cover still glowed with flames, too stubborn to die out, a lot like myself. She'd stay and read to me, laughing at how ludicrous the characters were.  But it always puzzled me, how she had the same book every time and yet the story was always different.

"Serenity sweetie, don't ever fall in love. It's such an absurd emotion." She'd say, eyes closed, a smile stretched shamelessly across her face. Of course, what else can I do but reply with a nod?

*******

Every night before her departure, she would stride over to the my bedside to brush her fingers over my scars, peck my forehead, or fiddle with the straps that latched my limbs to the bedsheets. Her blank grey eyes would settle on the pathetic figure that struggled to reach out to her, unaware that she was nothing more than a trick of the light, a mere image constructed from the disorder that had rotted away my sanity.

"Go to sleep." She whispered. Her fingertips hover above my eyes lids before she slides them shut, forcing me to sleep for what feels like mere seconds.

I've concluded that she must make her exit somewhere within that short period of time, because when my eyes no longer feel heavy with the weight of her fingers and I permit myself to open them, the sun would be out, the desk would be back in the corner, and the dust which had constructed her, would have already retreated to the floor. It astonishes me how easily she could trifle with my emotions, her absence was unbelievably vexatious, though her presence was harrowing.

I analyze my surroundings for the hundredth time before smiling at the tranquil scene,

"Thank you mama."