The Floor – Short Story

He found himself awake on the floor. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was lying there, but he knew it wasn’t the result of a fall or anything like that. It seemed to make sense anyhow, as he stared at the rock-like ceiling. He moved his head to the side and saw he was accompanies by piles of dust, thinking to himself that he might one day want to clean it.

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He was mesmerized by the ceiling, more so by the fact that he could make shapes out of the unsymmetrical popcorn that faced him. It almost felt like looking at the stars, something he remembered doing as a child. “Child” – his train of thought stumbled on that word. That was a much simpler time, he thought, when he saw the world through the lens of a periscope. The changing colours always excited him, and how storms would eventually bring sunshine. It was a simpler way to view the world, one that he had realized was far different from the one he was living now.

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