Open

The smell hits first.

Bleach and something sharp,

like pennies heated.

I saw her in the waiting room.

Her mouth a white O

against the pale walls.

Eyes fixed on the ceiling fan.

The chair.

A slow recline.

The bright light,

a sun too close.

A faint whirring,

a trapped insect sound.

"Open."

The command.

A foreign landscape opening.