flash fiction by C. N. Nevets, (c) 2012
By day they shove us into rooms and sit us is in chairs and arrange us in circles and say, "Talk to one another," and "Listen to one another," and "Support one another." By day, we make friendships around the sterile plastic tables and in the ceramic tiled bathrooms and on the stain resistant chairs around the big screen TV. By day, we bond and share and open up as we play ping pong and go fish and mad libs.
By day we realize that not only are we not alone but maybe we never really were.
All that, they say, is too stimulating.
We must calm down, cool off, wind down, take our edge off.
By night, they shove us into a room and sit us against the wall and tell us to cross our arms and legs and they turn off the lights and they say say, "Be quiet," and they say, "Don't talk," and they say, "Close your eyes," and they play Pink Floyd's The Wall. By night, we think about the people back home who love us or hate us or maybe don't know how they feel about us but wish they did and so they sent us here to get better. By night, they tell us to meditate and breathe deeply and reflect.