As usual she lay confined to her bed enduring the imagined distant judgement of everyone in her life.
Tired of staring up at the chaotically swirled textures on her ceiling, she heaved onto her side. Draping her hand down the side of her cheap divan, her fingertips could almost brush the floor.
Warm tears seeped into her pillow as a scaly clawed ‘hand’ reached out from under the bed to gently grip hers.
‘Guess I’m not alone after all,’ she smiled.