...

Iron bar skims softly down my bare foot. Skin keeps imprint of its presence one moment at a time. Sesame seeds dot barren along the fake stained burgundy of table-top red. False plant in the corner, too scarred to turn back now.

(Oh, god, this is hard! How I wish I knew where I was going with any of this... But a story takes so much more of myself away with it then maybe I have to spare.)