By Andrea M. Doll

My desk is three steps from my bed. My shower is ten steps from my desk. Breakfast is down a flight of carpeted stairs—bed, shower, breakfast, desk; desk, breakfast, shower, bed.

My friends live in a thin glowing box that gives me headaches when I stare too long. They wave to me weekly from miles away.  

Three months ago, my friends all slept in pale yellow rooms where the sun shined through above the hills. The desk where I sat took a lovely walk among the trees to reach. Classrooms changed by the hour. I knew what color pants my professors wore, and I shook their hands after meetings.  

I am a lucky one. When I return, my body will take me distances. I will live on a hill, in a soft yellow room where the sun shines through.  

Andrea M. Doll is a junior Honors student at Bellarmine University. She is an English and psychology double major and president of the Ariel Literary Society. She intends to continue writing while working as a dialectical behavioral therapist.