Paresis – V. Quotidian

-Under the moonlight-spilling into the room through thin curtains-under the thin brown blanket, under the white sheets, the body breathes heavily. There is no twitching of the hand, of the fingers, no strain on the muscle to hold the arm’s bone. There is a movement, not readily visible, not disturbing. A quick vibration, lifting but not opening, the eyelids. There is a silence, unquieted, only momentarily, with each quick exhalation after a long stream of breath, inhaled, swallowed, consumed.
Silence, in the dark hour. The moonlight trapped behind the clouds of dusk. The room, quiet, still, empty, but for the soft vibration of breath. The body, motionless. Eyelids stilled in the cold night air. Its head sways with the weight of sleep, from side to side. Fingers awaken, quiver, sending a motion through the arm’s bone, up through the weakened muscle. Eyelids, lazily, lift to the darkness. The body, motionless, but for the slight quivering of appendages, stares at the darkened white of night.
Blinking, in silence, the sun intrudes on the body’s catatonic moment. It can hear the swooshing of the hustle, outside the room’s doorframe. It breathes, and all that exists, then, is the breath, is the air, is the passing of each moment, interminably alone. Muscles contort, but the body cannot recognize the motion. It is not the same, as the previous contorting of the face. This is all the body can gather, in the silence of the white room, as the only thing familiar, is the light that bounces on soft white walls.
Eyes follow motion, ears follow sound. The body’s head falls to the left, as the sound awakens movement. The orderly steps in, pushing, the metallic mechanism through the door’s frame. It rolls, with a slight squeak, it is familiar. It stops, the sound, as the orderly locks the wheels in place, brings down the bed guard and helps the body displace itself from the white sheets and the brown blanket, under which, it had made its night time home; familiar.
Corridors unfold, as eyes scan, the body’s. The weak muscle strains, holding up and in place the arm’s bone, resting under the palm, resting under the head. The head, tilted, again, to the left. Fingers right below the scar, right below the ear. Searching for familiarity, as the metallic mechanism is pushed through corridors; the movement, the corridors, the head tilted left, the muscle strain and resting bone become familiar to the nine-year old boy.