It was just another ordinary day for me though you may find it to be something more, peculiar. There was something different about me, something that couldn't be explained by science and all their weird drinks and chalky sweets. Ever since the accident things hadn't been the same. I shouldn't of survived but I did.
I sat up in my bed and looked around the deserted room, I'm in day 2 of my isolation and I'm starting to miss humanity. Everything in here is white. White floors, white walls, white bedding and I look so pale that I'm starting to blend in. Twice a day 2 nurses in quarantine outfits come in and serve me food. I try to talk to them but they ignore me, it'd be easier to get noticed in a crowed tube station. At least there all I'd have to do is shout "bomb" and everyone would scatter.
Despite the lack of human interaction it turns out that it's the little things that I miss the most. My Aunt Josephine's perfume the choked my lungs when ever she hugged me, the day old pizza that my brother brought me back from work. These things used to be so little but now they'd mean so much.
However I'm stuck in this half empty room with just me myself and I for company. I flop down into my bed and stare at the desk to see the only colour I was provided with, some old Crayola crayons and a stack of card. I've already used a lot of the card making paper aeroplanes and don't really want to waste anymore. I turned my head towards the white wall at the bottom of my bed and sparked an idea.
