White Cotton Cot
By Mitch Adams

Pools of sweat were collecting as Phillip lay static, belly up in his white cotton cot. He wished it was hot sweat akin to the type collected after a hearty healthy workout, Philip could not remember the last time he partook in such activity. The men dressed to match the white of the walls prohibited such activity; Philip was enraged when they doubted his youthful vitality.
Philip was regarded as fantastically fit not so long ago, before this building decided to consume his life. He was perfectly fine until the so called professionals condemned him to this room, Philip knew it was this places fault he grew so tired every day. So tired yet sleep would not follow as it once would, it was something they were feeding him no doubt about it. He needed to exercise in order to sleep, but how could he do that with only a short walk each day? Philip had a walker in his hands for the entirety of those trips, a device he used strictly to pleasure the staff.
If only he could go for a jog with his dog, or throw some passes to his team. Sleep would come to him then, sleep would come and he wouldn’t have to think about the last few months, taking away his every love and shoving him in this room. Philip could not decide if he wanted to exercise or sleep now, a problem he never thought he would have. For Phil was an athlete and he will always be one.
This time sleep started to sound more appealing, as his cold sweat dried up. He felt cold on the inside and