Snapshot 1

The chair is not the right color orange,
The bench has scratches that distract my thoughts,
While the white walls act as a projector screen.
I can hear the reels behind me,
winding the tape, showing the days,
and the nights,
and the mornings.
It's cold in the hallway but that's how it should be.
The snow and rain falling silently from the grey clouds,
It all makes this make sense.
But it still doesn't.