Your Room

The sun streams through your window. There are no curtains and the blinds are not closed completely. There are two windows facing the street. Between them sit a cherry wood desk upon which sits your computer monitor. It is off. The desk is clear except for the monitor. On the hutch are a laser printer, a number of CDs, and some books. Below the desk, to the right and the left, are three drawers, all closed.

On the wall to the left of your desk is a floor to ceiling, wall to wall bookcase. It, too, is dark cherry wood and is filled with books, some leather-bound, most not. To the right of your desk are a closet door, closed, and the door to the room, also closed. The skeleton key is turned in such a way that the door to your room appears locked.

There is a large comfortable looking, leather chair between the two doors and a floor lamp with a reading lamp hanging over the back of the chair. It is a dark brown with lots of cracks and creases and a small throw pillow tossed on the headrest. An ottoman of the same color sits in front of the chair, off to the side.

Opposite the windows, near the bookcase is another window that looks onto your small garden when the blinds are open. In front of the window is a high-backed leather chair, black, with an afghan thrown over the armrest. On the same wall but closer to the door, there is a night table of the same cherry wood as the other furniture. On it are a small lamp with a plum colored shade, a book of poetry that has fallen open to a page that you have obviously read many times, an answering machine, a full prescription bottle and a well-worn Bible.

On the hard wood floors there are two Karistan rugs. One runs the width of the room from the doors to the bookcase. The other, smaller, is in front of the night table. Upon it sit black slippers with gold tassels. In the four corners of the ceiling are fixed speakers from which the music of your favorite band, Pink Floyd, flows.

Between the night table and the high-backed, black leather chair, is a large sleigh bed. Its finish matches the night table and the desk. It is covered with a Ralph Lauren comforter with a paisley design in various shades of plum and green. There are also numerous throw pillows in greens, blues and plums.

You sit upon the bed facing the door. Your feet are in the black, gold-tasseled slippers. Your face is bloated from crying. Your eyes are red and swollen. Your chest rises and falls rapidly. Your lips move as if in prayer. In your hand is a gun. And in the gun is one bullet.

Your hand brings the gun to your rapidly moving lips. To your mouth that repeats not a prayer, but rather “I’m so tired.” Your eyes continue to spill tears. Your lips cease to move. Your mouth ceases to speak. You open your mouth. Your hands put the muzzle of the gun between your now quiet lips. Your eyes close. Your finger moves.