...since I didn't post for a long while, this is a long post.
She rubs her eyes and looks at the walls again. At the moment, they’re looking a sickly, fluorescent sort of color—more lemon yellow than soft green—that makes the pit of her stomach feel even emptier. But it’s not just her stomach. As the hours slip by—midnight, one, two, three, four, five in the morning—she, in her entirety, becomes emptier and emptier, like her mind’s being removed, carved out, gutted out of her body. Turning back to the computer, she tries to conjure up emotion, ideas, thoughts. Something?
