She sat in her cell, doing anything she could to pass the hours until her freedom from her current confinement. She would pace around the padded space, stretch her legs, slump against the wall and count the seams in the padding, or simply stretch out on the floor and meditate. As she checked the tightness of her canvas jacket, the folf noticed a small piece of cotton floating in the air; likely from the collar of the jacket, which was lined in the soft material. The fluff of cotton danced in the air like a snowflake, until it landed on the folf's nose. Her eyes crossed as she gazed upon it. She shook her head to set the cotton free, and let it fall to the ground, but the release had another effect: it graced and ticked her nose. She snorted and wrinkled her nose in an attempt to cease the itch, but to no avail. She plopped to knees as she wriggled about her jacket, wanting to scratch her snout, but the jacket showed no give. She would have to work herself up and onto her feet, or at least roll over to rub her nose against the padded captivity that withheld her. It's these little problems of everyday life that so many take for granted; that is until you're in the psych ward with a similar canvas jacket