Cerulean Shadows Dancing on My Nightstand

"Oh, damn," she said to herself. Here she sat alone, in a room, forlorn by the mute walls which appeared to be run down as they themselves were taking a beating by the lonesome gloom. And the artifacts that lay about here and there and on the bed, a guitar pick, a hair brush, a fallen stuffed elephant seemed to stare at her in the most dreary appeal as if they themselves can understand the nature of an exhausted plea. The silence follows.