To Greener Pastures

"This isn't good for you." Wesley looks from her laptop to the door of her room, now open and spilling it's warm light to the dark space she sat in alone. "Be more specific," she sat on her chair with her feet placed on the seat and her knees hugged to her chest, and the only part of her body not bundled together were her arms, outstretched to reach her keyboard, clacking away aimlessly. The voice from her door sighed heavy, and for a moment, the only sound came from the keys. Clack, clack, clack. "I want to say first, you're sitting in the dark. That messes with your eyes, when you look at screens in the dark. I tell you keep the light open and you.. ah, why do I say this." The figure was halo-ed by the light, the front shadowed. Though the face couldn't be made out, disappointment was made clear through a hand lifting up and pinching the bridge of the nose. "I mean to say that you sit here and work and.. to put it nicely, you don't do anything." Clack, clack, clack "I'm not telling you to be a party girl, I'm saying to go outside a bit more. Not just for work. You know, gardening, eh.. um jogging. Or, I mean it doesn't have to be outside. You could pick up a hobby. And inside one. Like, ah.. um.. crocheting. I hear that's a hit thing to do these days." Clack, clack, clack "... My baby, I can't force you to do anything you don't want to, you're a grown woman now, but my heart grows heavy when I think about you. We all grow older, your father and me included. I appreciate the work you do for us, but you've never used your vacation days since you've started working, and I think you should start now." Clack The noticeable silence fills the room with a stifling air. The figure places something on a small table next to the door. "These are plane tickets and information for booking a bed-and-breakfast. I want you to go over. Give me some peace, and your body and mind a break." After a moment and a hesitation, retreated went the light as the door shut. The room empty —of sound, and of light.