Problem: I sit in a chair and look around aimlessly wondering how I got here. As quickly as the thought comes, it goes. I look down and see that I sit stagnant in a chair with wheels, I feel paralyzed not only in my body but in my brain as well. My muscles ache to move but lay dormant in its place. Why do I feel so young? I once realized my skin was riddled with wrinkles and veins, and bared a pain that ensured a broken fantasy. I was young, grew old, now am young once again; the development now severed leaving only my inner infancy. I hear words that make sense, and my answers just barely trickle down to the tip of my tongue only to be met with mismatched words and thoughts that aren't mine... How did I get here? Who are these people? Remember... family, this is my family... who are these people? I look across the room and see familiar faces leaving me with only questions of how I know them. I gaze blankly at the walls, the art is pretty, reminds me of my grandkids... Where am I? Who are these people? That's my daughter, my youth-yet not so youthful. What it would be like to look in a mirror to see what I've become... How old am I? Where am I? Who are these people? Respond to others by identifying and explaining what you think is one impressive characteristic of creative nonfiction in the brief writing.