Ficlets basically rules.

It’s like reading different universes, or dimensions. In the one I started, that chronologically is at the same point as this, the protagonist is also sitting on a mattress, but he/she has a clock.

I really like what you’ve done with this, whether you intended to or not.

This is my favourite sentence in a ficlet so far:

The harsh white light, encased in plastic high above me, flickers annoyingly at irregular intervals.