One the way up the elevator to easter’s room, my eyes catch a brown stain on the floor. Its actually almost orange. Its like a huge tear drop stain, I try to imagine what caused the stain for a second and then tried to put out of my mind, bad idea. With the sights and smell of this place, its easy to gag. Clean thoughts. Clean thoughts. Look at the ascending numbers. I hate this place so much. I hate this stupid small smelly elevator, I hate the front desk lady with teeth too small and she never knows who I’m talking about. “Hmm. Are you sure that’s the correct name? Easter Soliday……Hmmm…...(long waiting – I wonder if she is even still looking….) Oh here you go; 8th floor, turn right, room 842. Have a nice day.” My eyes wander back to the stain. Has anyone even tried to clean it up? I bet its been there at least a week. It sicks me out, but I cant help but to stare at it. I was so mad when our mom put him in here. I felt like she was just giving him away to a crappy life. Funny thing is, after she put him here, she became a lot less satisfied with her own life. Nothing could make her happy after that. She had tons of time and spent all of it watching the home shopping network and complaining about the garbage men waking her up every Tuesday morning. Hauling away the crap she bought from the home shopping network - every Tuesday morning at seven. The elevator finally comes to a stop and the first thing I see as the door opens is an old man. He’s sitting right in front of the elevator his head cocked to one side; his lips have a blue tint to them. He eyes stare at me unblinking. I move out of his way but the eyes don’t follow. I wonder if he’s dead. Maybe someone was moving him and then forgot about him. Days ago. He has yellow bits of food or something on his chin. We stare at each other for a moment, and I move on. I hate this place.

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