The room is bright, painted with vibrant colors and words, and very well lit, and yet, it is dark. On one wall a painted sun rises over the ocean, splashing its reds, oranges, and yellows across the sparkling waves and azure sky, but it feels like a sunset, plunging the world into darkness, rather than a rise. On the opposite wall is a mural of three smiling women with a word written in flowy letters over their heads: Esperanza. Hope. Yet this room is possibly the most hopeless place on Earth. A television blares in the corner, and some of the women in the chairs lining the walls stare blankly at it. Others look through some of the many magazines found on the tables throughout the room. A few women try to hide the tears flowing down their cheeks, and one girl, who looks about 16 or 17, openly sobs, but they all pretend not to notice. At the desk a woman with curly pink hair smiles an artificial smile at all who enter. Every few minutes a woman is called back, and her vacant seat is quickly filled.
Despite the vibrance of the room, with its vivid hues and bright lights, gloom coats the room like a blanket of dust, hard to see but ever present, and an eerie sense of death chokes the soul as the sadness of this place envelops all who enter. Every time the door opens two lives enter, and when it closes, only one will leave.
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