Remembrances of Red Trauma (2) – The room on the 7th floor

Cover image credit istock.com/primeimages

By Phu Kradat

The tips of the hair on my forehead swayed as it flicked past. It made a loud dripping sound as it reached the floor. I looked up to see where it came from; the air-conditioning made a humming sound. Hanging from its white cover, it gently expanded, steadily growing plump. It would probably drop onto the floor again soon. Staring for a while, I then stooped down to look for where it was dripping. No trace. The white-tile floor had completely swallowed it up. I looked at it and then rubbed my feet over the floor until I found the spot where it was dripping and moved away from it.

I was standing outside on the balcony. The sun hadn’t appeared all morning; it didn’t come until the afternoon. The humidity in the air was probably at the same level as the water droplets. So humid that the sweat could not bring itself to travel…