I could feel myself choking and I was certain it was the scrubs that I wear day in and day out so I tore them from my body and threw on the roomiest pajamas I own . . . but the air around me still wouldn't fill my lungs. That's when I noticed the walls. They were closing in on me.
Slowly they were creeping inwards as the ceiling descended and the floor rose. Needing to escape, I set a determined pace and walked to the nearest exit.
But once outside, the open spaces made me want to fold in on myself, crumpling to the ground and shrinking until I was as small as a seed that could burrow into the dry summer earth.
In my mind was an inane picture of Spring's rains soaking the soil, touching my seed, breaking me open and, come April, the land would yield a brand new me.