Some people don’t like it here. They don’t like the far too potent smells of sterilization, the ones that fail to hide the darker smells underneath. They don’t like the bleak concrete walls, or the sounds of doors slamming. The sound of imprisonment. Sometimes I understand that, but I, personally, love it.
Well, perhaps that was an exaggeration. I don’t love it. Not exactly. But it’s better than what I smell and hear, than what I see, when I close my deeply shadowed eyes.
