Sarah

Sarah sits in her electric wheelchair in the middle of the empty living room. She's wearing soft, gray sweatpants and a simple dark blue long-sleeved cotton shirt. A thin, plaid blanket is draped over her legs. Her gaze is fixed on the door, but her thoughts drift to the speck of dust dancing in the sunlight outside the window.

The silence is tense. She hears the hum of the refrigerator, the sound of a tram in the distance, and her own breathing. Nervousness sits like a queasy weight in her stomach. Soon, a stranger will be here, helping her, seeing her. She considers making a joke but decides to wait and observe.

A metallic click of the lock breaks the silence. The white door opens slowly.