A Laying Down of Flowers

A nearly unheard whisper of skin. Clothe meets and flutters in the passing wind dancing along with movement.

Gray smooth corridors had risen to meet the whispers. Dim, yellow, sputtering lights had attempted to follow the dance of the clothe. Smooth walls reflect and refract the distorted image, once passed the dirty, dark, gray walls stand silent again.

Bleach attempted to mask too many horrible smells all coming from different sources. A windowless, doorless corridor is greeted with the whispering feet.

The clothe ceases its fluttering. The whispers stop. A soft thump, followed by a reluctant creak and then-

A head thrown back in greeting.

Light, pure white light.

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I was just thinking one day, and something very, very similar to this came into my head. And when I tried to capture it, it morphed into this. Not exactly what I was going for.

I'll tell you what is happening from my persective if you wish. But I'm not posting it right now cause I want you to think. I thought this up while zoning at work.

I really want Feedback. Did you like? Not like? Confused? Trying to figure it out? (I don't think it's that hard, but omipresent perspective gets you nowhere here)