I’m home.

It’s been a long day, and winding down into the velvet couch is the perfect way to fall into the deepest sleep you’ve ever fallen into. Everything about the frigid room is ideal, but only because the couch is warm. The rust purple couch slips into a different color as you run your hand along the fabric, and you pull the blush gray pillows closer to your chest.

Here.

A blanket flutters in the air above you, cascading down the evening onto your sprawled out body. Flames dance along the walls, engulfing you in a welcoming heat. Nothing about it is painful, just bright. You’ve made the right choice with the walls and the carpet, and accept this feeling of satisfaction before the sizzling of seared steaks pull you from your slumber.

I’m uninspired.

How could I forget the life I had built outside of this workplace? These colors extend outside a corporate illusion. An idyllic dream I had of running a purpose that fueled other people’s purposes, and it remained just that: a dream. Except I wrung the determination out of violets and cosmos. I left the towel to dry, coming home to the colors of my walls.

I blinked a little harder. The walls of the office crumbled into a studio adorned in gold. Geographically smaller, but physically bigger.

I realized that there was something much bigger than death, and it was life.