An unexpected break

The guard led me to a holding cell of sorts, a room with a bench seat and a chair. The barred window looked out over a pool, which I found odd. Who swims in a looney bin? Someone must, although I never did find out the answer to that question. The guard asked me if I wanted something to eat or drink and I told him I was terribly thirsty and would love some water. He said he would get it for me and left. I laid down on the bench seat, closed my eyes and was soon more relaxed than I had been in a long time. My world had stopped. I didn't have my phone. I didn't have a clock by which to mark the passing minutes and hours. I didn't have the children clamoring for my attention, dinner to be made, friends in crisis or a husband to care for. It was quiet. Time stood still. After awhile, the guard came in and brought me a pillow and some blankets. Still no water. I was REALLY thirsty and he said he would bring me something to drink. I waited a bit, but when he didn't come back, I put my head down on the pillow and drifted off. In and out. I could hear the guards, then another patient they brought in, who apparently was way less happy than I was to be there and was making sure the guards knew exactly how she felt, in very colorful language, about the whole process.
As I waited for hours there in that little room, I marveled that I was not bored, that other than being incredibly thirsty, I did not mind the wait at all. I was so tired, and the break from the real world came as an unexpected relief.