The only light that illuminated the tiny cell came from the light bulb on the ceiling.
It wasn’t much. A sickly yellow light that didn’t even reach the corners of the cell and thus only made everything feel even more restricted.
Sometimes the light flickered and turned the whole room into darkness.
That were the moments the prisoner feared the most. When there was nothing but blackness and he couldn’t even see his own hand in front of his eyes.
When it felt as if he couldn’t breathe because the darkness was suffocating him; the sudden pressure that seemed to carve in his chest every time.
The cell´s walls were made of concrete – grey, lifeless and cold.
It must have been ages since the last time the room had seen any kind of maintenance for many cracks disrupted the once smooth surface.
Sometimes when the prisoner looked long enough he thought that he could make out some kind of patterns.
He tried to bring some kind of order into it, because if he did nothing he would turn insane.
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