Swallowed in a beige sea of packing paper and boxes,
Scattered sheets of iridescent bubble wrap at my feet.

The bare mattress, lying naked, exposed on the floor makes me swell. Queasy and uncomfortable in this space.

This feeling is new. Unfamiliar and strange. I don't like the way it envelopes me. Constricting and unshakeable.

"Just one moment longer. Just one last rest."

The mattress, she sighs and settles under my weight.

I close my eyes, and hold my breath.

I can hear the faint rumble of the train in the distance, the ever present hum of traffic, the buzz as the heat kicks in through the vent above my head.

I open my eyes, and notice a blotch of grey paint on the ceiling. I am reminded of the weekend I painted these walls. I am reminded of pride that filled my chest, and buzzed off my skin.

I am reminded that I will miss this color, these walls.

Slowly a warmth builds between my skin and cloth.

She holds me, supports me, embraces me as I allow the swell to seep into her white stitching and fill her frame.

"What's next? What happens once all of these boxes are packed, and this room is empty?" she asks.

I melt into her. Accepting it.

"I don't know... I don't know."