I’m not exactly a prisoner. But when I open my eyes at the start of each new day, it sometimes feels that way, at least in the sense that my world has shrunk down to something like a cell. Just these four concrete walls, barren and oppressive.
I push myself off the creaky single bed and stretch. The room still smells of last night’s greasy fast food. Cheap oil and fried chicken hide the smell of laundry detergent that clings to the walls of this place.
I stare at the Sunshine Laundry sticker plastered on the beat-up old chest of drawers on the opposite side of the room. It’s faded and torn at the edges, and the sun’s smiling face is far from convincing.
Sighing, I brush my teeth in the plastic sink and swap my sweats and t-shirt for leggings and a tank. It stretches comfortably to accom
