A futile apology
A futile apology A short narrative. Slowly, carefully…I entered the room. My heart pounded; emotions escalated; limbs trembled; what was I going to expect? The room was decorated with gaudy and bold shades of red wallpaper that maliciously smirked at me in revenge whenever I raised my head or got lost in a cloud of delusional thoughts. I hesitated to glance at the grandfather clock, which ticked in ponderous reminder. It emitted a slow and paced, monotonous sound that echoed and rebounded back onto the hollow walls - hollow and empty, lost out of life. The atmosphere — musty and cold- wrapped me in a suffocating, heavy, inescapable trap; it enveloped me, it made me feel heavy — my chest felt uneasy. The hefty and bulky teak furniture dominantly sat in place; heavy cotton curtains cascaded down onto the floor like a waterfall, blocking every inch of sunlight that hoped to enter the room through the window. In the corner of the room, there was a photograph stuck onto the wall. A small
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