You Will Notice That Hallways Are Painted (short story)
Copyright 2011 Angela Meyer
A small room made of stone that is nonetheless warm
She is sitting on the floor when the counselor brings in her new roommate. He is tall and brown-skinned and has a jacket wrapped up between his arms that are in front of him. Just a whiff of his skin and it’s all summer sweat and mango hands and Ava experiences a strong, familiar pull in her groin.
‘Ava, this is Monty, he’ll be taking Heidi’s old bed,’ says Counselor Dean, and Monty’s hand lifts politely.
‘Welcome,’ she says. Strange, that they had given her a man. Maybe they thought she was gay after the last one, after the thing that got Heidi moved to another ward. She isn’t sure sex is out of bounds anyway – it’s never spoken about. Perhaps changing up the sexes of her roommates is all part of her individual experiment. But what’s his?
Monty takes his bag from Dean, she leaves, and he begins to unload a few belongings on his bed. Ava peers out at the Intelligence. You never did know when someone or something was watching from that giant stone tower (with rings of tinted windows) in the centre.
‘So – what you in for?’