White

Black. He must open his eyes.

The legs were rusted. The place was damp and it had that metal smell and the metal was mixed with something. There was no light, only what He could see with his tiny micro flashlight. He had no idea that he would be needing a flashlight on this day, he was lucky the he had this tiny one. It was on his key-chain, it had been for years. He thought to himself how lucky it was that it did indeed work after all of this time. The Table or workbench that he had hidden under seemed to be supporting the weight of the rubble that had fallen on top of it. He could see that the legs on the table were very worn and crusted with an orange rust, it didn't look good. The legs already looked bent. They wouldn't hold much longer.

He crawled forward, feeling around on the wet floor. His hands felts a grainy substance, like dirt. Coffee grounds, it felt like. In fact, he could smell coffee. He thought perhaps that he was in some sort of storage area. His light only lit a small diameter. He had to point it exactly at what he needed to see. He was on his knees crouched over. He stuck the tiny light into his mouth, keys jingled against his chin and he didn't feel like he had the time to remove them. He started to crawl forward on his stomach.

He could hear water dripping and the shifting and settling of foundation. The smell of coffee mixed with wood and damp cardboard was overwhelming to his senses, He thought that if he gave it another moments thought, he may suffocate. It was best for him to keep on moving. He could now notice his own breathing, it was labored. He needed to stop thinking about it and he needed to crawl. He lurched forward and bumped his head on something blunt. Black.

Pink.

He felt different now, elevated and he his body was turned over, he was lying on his back. He saw Pink. His eyes were closed and when he realized this, he didn't want to open them. He felt a warmth on his face, A blinding pink. There was a bright light on his face, he could feel it and he didn't want to open his eyes. He thought he must have been knocked unconscious when he hit his head, someone must have found him, He had been saved. He'd better open his eyes. But He didn't want to, not yet.

He noticed the sounds now, the sounds of machines. He could hear a whirring sound and a hiss. It sounded like something was rising and falling over and over. Hiss and then a Push sound. Over and over. It was cold too, outside the area of his head, his feet were cold. The light must have only been on his face but the rest of his body was very cold. Whatever he was laying on though, it was soft, it was comfortable. He must be naked, that's why He was so cold. Where were his clothes? He wondered. Where was he? He wondered.

He must open his eyes. White.

a song.