A simile of a smile appears to be the only thing you're willing to trade for an hour of my time. Like long line tuna fleets you drop your hooks and fish for compliments you haven't earned- thirsty for words dripping in false sentiment. Analogous green shapes resemble a mountain in the distance, the clouds are beautifully painted on the ceiling, the lightbulb symbolising the sun is surprisingly soft and warm, all the while I am tethered to a post, pacing perfect circles when I strain to walk, like a totem tennis match against the ghost who haunts the halls.