The walls of the room was covered by drawings of horses. Horses in pastures mainly. All riderless, some in colors of pink and purple and pale blue. They all had big eyes and black lashes. They stared out at the man in the white coat. He clicked a retractable pen again and again and again.
He turned to the bed and pressed his hand into the sheets dotted with little roses. The bed was still warm. He moved his hand to the chrome railing, and ran it back and forth, feeling the cold smoothness. He remembered that sensation from when he was a child, confined to a similar bed. It was oddly comforting after all these years.
He sat in the vinyl covered chair next to the bed. It too was still warm. Next to him was a table filled with cards. On their covers were more horses, more expertly depicted. There were also a few showing ill looking cartoon cats or dogs, and couple with pictures of flowers. He wanted to read what they said inside, but refrained, afraid to touch them.
Taped above the head of the bed were photos of her family and assorted classmates. She played soccer once upon a time. She ate pizza at birthday parties. She rode a pony with the most joyous expression he had ever seen. She cuddled with her parents, laughing. He put his hand to his mouth, shaking. He put his hand down, and clicked the pen rapidly.
Across the bed, out the window, a spring breeze blew, swaying tree branches with little green buds. They scraped against the outside wall.
He wondered why he had lied. Why he could not do what he said he would. He stood up, and unbuttoned his coat. He folded it and laid it on the bed. He put the pen on top. He looked at it for a full minute, then turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.