Black Noon
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. It was a small window, forbidden by law and, unbeknownst to the local authorities, hidden behind a craftily hung picture and its frame. But the window, the last of its kind, could not be easily hidden or forgotten about; the light had bled through from behind the chipping brown frame, overflowed over the stale gray walls and spilled onto the cold concrete floors of the upper room. Its warmth managed to seep through the cracks in her ceiling, dripping on her pristine white walls and mystically wafted through her room. It called to her. The light had only whispered to her at first, in a voice that was almost completely inaudible. It scratched at her ears, which prompted her to send for a doctor. He came, the only doctor who dared venture into their side of town, and determined there was nothing wrong with her ears, but she was a bit malnourished. He, through the door, as he naturally could not go inside her complex, prescribed her a hot meal and a bath, but could not provide either to her. So, she went back to her thoughts for several days, forgetting about the itching for a long time.