Slowly…slowly…slowly her eyes drift across the dead white of the room. The only change from the monotony of dead colours was his darkened-caramel skin sitting in the same bland white seat. His light blue shirt seeming to glow in the room. Everything was the same here. Same colour, same routine, same times, same people- with the occasional reoccurrence of those distantly familiar faces- still the same people.
She doesn’t look into his eyes though. She just roams over his face, his clothing and body. Looking at everything, all of him, but taking in nothing. The same as she always does.
“You look- good-”
His body shifts uncomfortably in the chair as he too looks over her as a whole. Searching for a point of eye contact.
“Claire…” in his mind it was the beginning of a question but it had come out sounding like the start of an apology.
Quietly, but not quite a whisper, she turned to the blank, bland far wall and said two words. Her voice as monotonous as the room.
“The same.”
The room sank back into silence. Dull, dead, white-toned silence.
Finally he manages to look her in the eye. She stares back. Not seeing his face but looking straight through.
Her face is ghostly pale, no colour left besides the hazel iris’ of her blank eyes, the tinged pink of her lips and the pale cream toning of her skin against the room. Her skin so obviously deprived of sunlight. The rich Vitamin D hadn’t been given the chance to variously positioned freckles across her silk smooth, untouched skin.
“The same,” Claire mouths again. This time no sound escaped.
“Claire? What’s the same?” He asks quietly. Too much volume echoes, quiet seems peaceful. Good.
Her hand raises in a slow yet swift motion. Each conflicting with the other to make the action unnatural. The innocent, unharmed skin of her fingertips brush the light purple colouration beneath his eyes.
Again a whisper, “Same faces. Same face,” Her quiet tone says. “Same Josh.”
“Yes,” Josh nods slightly more eagerly but the word doesn’t quite reach an audible level. “Yes, same Josh.”
“I just wish that I could see the sun. Feel the warmth of it on my skin.” Her voice was quite and the most innocent I had heard it in some time. My stomach flipped quietly at the sound of it.
“It’s been raining since you- got- here. Pouring actually. A few more days of it and it’ll be flooding, but you expect that this time of year.”
His mouth is rambling and the words rush out in a burst of confusion with no meaning except to fill the space where he didn’t know what to say.
Her eyes were blank as she opened her mouth and words began to flow out of her mouth in a familiar melody. Each note flowed from her lips as a slowed down, somehow sadder, version of the familiar combination of notes.
“It’s raining, it’s pouring. The old man is snoring. He bumped his head at the foot of the bed and didn’t wake up in the morning.”
There is nothing for Josh to do but watch as Claire sings her sad little song. Her eyes staring at a distant point somewhere through the bland white wall.
It made Josh seem distant, feel distant, as Claire stared off past the present.

Time began to sink away as Josh searched desperately for something to say, breaking the painful silence, that didn’t reveal the concern soaked through his voice. He came up blank.
Claire however had shimmied her body into a half lying position with her legs resting against the wall. Not moving. The only movement came from her breathing. Sound came through the room as she began to hum a tune filled with various notes, chained together in a effortless melody.
Sitting there in the mess of white, Josh can do nothing except sit there in the middle of the same room as always, feeling the same sense of confusion and uncomfortably, with this ever changing character in front of him. Claire continues humming her own unique tune to the invisible sound of the rain, lost through the sound of white.