WhiteEverything was white. The ceiling, the walls, the shiny tile floor; everything. Andrea's footsteps echoed loudly as she walked unsurely down the hospital hallway, the dramatic effect of the sound waves ricocheting off of the blank walls intimidating her. The walls were blank. Clean. Just like the floor, which was so polished that she could easily make out her own reflection passing below her on each individual square as she moved onward. The bland hallway and its lack of color and décor made Andrea feel as though she were experiencing what it was like to be color blind: as if all of the microscopic rods, cones and other optic mechanisms had faltered and quit behind her darting beryl eyes. No, this was a different world from the one she was accustomed to. It was pristine, stark, and sterile.
Room 417. This was the one. Andrea's loud footsteps ceased as she stopped outside the big white door. It was ajar, inviting her to push it open and enter. She took a deep breat