The elderly-ward at the mental health facility.

"What I did to deserve this punishment, I do not know." Today is the first time I hear this woman speak in a full month, besides her occasional desperate whisper, "Help me...". Usually she sits in a chair sighing loudly as if short of breath, ignoring the goings-on around her. Today she is actually speaking when spoken to, pausing from her gasps, looking confused before resting her eyes on you and answering the question.
"Nice out today, isn't it?" I ask.
Sigh.
"The sun is so warm." I watch her through the corner of my eye; she looks around trying to find whatever it is that I seem to admire so much. "Don't you just enjoy a nice walk out in the sunshine?"
"Nee, verschrikkelijk. It's horrible."
"Ah." What else could I answer? She told me earlier that she was afraid. I do not know what of. But she's afraid. Her world is so far from my own. Sunshine does not reach it. "We can go back if you wish."
Her pace slows as we near the building. I can't tell if she is tired from the walk or dreading the return to her prison.
Back in the living area I manage to start a game of Rummikub, no small feat of it's own. Her face is turned in our direction but her eyes do not see us. "Do you want to join?" I ask. To my surprise she stands up and shuffles to our table.
"I don't know how."
"No problem, we'll go over the rules first." The well-meaning intern who smiles too much and talks to everyone like she is offering candy to a child sits next to her and watches over her shoulder.
"Ah, look, you can use that four right there. Yes, just put it there. Good job!"
"Pff, good job. I didn't do anything special."
"Well, but, well, that's how the game goes, and you are learning."
Sigh.
The game continues. My tiles are not working in my favor. A player next to me manages to play all her tiles but one in one single turn. My sighing friend watches in interest. The final tile cannot be placed. "Ah, such a shame." I say. I look up across the table, and for a brief second I think I catch a hint of an upward turn at the sides of her mouth, her eyes alive for one moment. And then it's gone.
Bari has come smiling in to hand out meal tickets. "Five-minutes till lunch! Finish up ladies!"
Her eyes are dimmed again and her breathing is long and heavy.
"Until next week!" I say. She sighs and does not look up.
I get my coat and bike home, the sun shines on my face, and I smile. It was a good day.