It’s been so long since she went out. Sunlight filters through threadbare curtains to hover over her bed. If she moves the dust will fly like Tinkerbell.
It’s been so long since she opened the fridge—so long since she heard its hum, so long since she ate. But no-one has visited and nobody cared. Except for Tinkerbell.
Today the sun is brighter and today she feels light. Legions of angels rise with her from the bed. Together they walk the corridor of broken tiles, tread crumbled stairs and drift through cobwebbed windows over the door. And today she’s free.