The black clock is the only thing of color in this place where white plasters the walls, envelops thes ceiling, and covers the floor. After a while, seeing only one color makes the color no longer a color.

I finger my white dress like so many times before and am sad, but not surprised, to see that there is nothing new on it. Not a spill. Nor a rip that I could marvel at. Not even a drop of blood. I've tried so many times just to get one little sign that time actually is passing and that this is real. If time is going forward at all, it's moving infinitely slowly. The clock is of no use to me, because that is not how time is measured. I glance around me. Nobody meets my eyes; they are all too busy studying the ground, their white clothes, or the dust particles floating in the white light.

"Jameson!" the attendant calls and I am half standing, joy flooding through me, when I see the other girl standing up. "Katie Jameson!" the attendant repeats. This has happened so many times. So many times that I don't feel that hole of disappointment in my chest anymore. That part of me seems to have been amputated.

Oh, how I hate this. I always hated waiting in general. But this... this is different. This is not only waiting. This is a place where there is only the color white and people who are white inside.

I watch as Katie Jameson stands up and for a second, I see that tiny ounce of color return to her cheeks and the white of her dress turn more pale pink if you stare at it really close. Or know the color white like the back of your hand. No. Better than the back of your hand. The color is the first I've seen in a long, long time. Katie Jameson's mouth moves and I am sure words are coming out. Sound does not exist to those who wait. Only the names being called out in the mechanical, droning voice. Katie rushes forward to the doorway, her bare feet moving faster than anything I have seen in this room. The moment before the attendant closes the door, I see a glimpse of Katie with her arms wrapped around a man's neck. Both are smiling and crying. I don't feel any of it. Katie Jameson stole my freedom.

I settle down and stare at my hands. I wonder what I look like after all this time. There are no mirrors here. Only us. I sigh and lean back. Then my eyes widen. Because, on the white ceiling, is the tiniest speck of black. I've looked at this ceiling billions of times, so this has to be new. I look around me to see if anyone else has noticed it, but they're all staring down. When I look back up, the speck is gone. Maybe I imagined it.

"Jameson!" the attendant calls and once again, I am at my feet.

I see the other person, this time a boy and retake my seat. "Micheal Jameson!"

I watch as the whole process with Katie Jameson repeats, but this time it's someone who I assume is his brother come to get him. All the while, I'm just sitting here. And waiting. And waiting. And waiting. The clock hand moves the tiniest fraction and I close my eyes to it.

Whether or not I know what time it is, I'll still be waiting.