Asclepias Curassavica (Paint A Pretty Picture)
I look at them calmly, while surveying the scene before me.
I see lovely red flowers dotting the walls. {Their hue and texture is amazing! The actual design is childish, but the crudeness is exquisite. (I cannot help but be biased - I am the artist.)}
I see their clean white frocks, dimmed by their no-nonsense expressions. {This is, apparently, serious business. One of them just twitched their lip, perhaps signaling me to stop my foolishness and concentrate on the situation at hand.}
I see the hanging lamp sway back and forth, as if hinting a crime. {It flickers on and off, just like in those horror flicks.}
I see commotion, bulletholes on my hands, blood on my clothes. I see an incoming darkness.
Then I see no more.
