Asylum part 2

(Over six months later)

Psychiatric patients with poor appetites were eating lunch in the ward's dining room. The nursing staff observed as some talked to themselves while others simply enjoyed their meal in peace. Snow had begun to fall outside the window, covering the trees and grounds in a white blanket.

There was one patient seated at a corner table with a hint of faded mint green streaks in his braided hair. He sat with his knees in his chest and stared at the wall as his liquid lunch dripped down the tube through his nose and into his stomach.

His gaze was focused and distant in a state of deep contemplation.

It had been a brutally grueling few months for him. The days had tangled into a gray mass, the same pattern repeating itself every day.