My hip bone is hurting. I turn over onto my back. Now my lower back hurts. I slide my feet towards my butt and point my knees up. My lower back shifts down into the hard ground and melts flat against it. I take a deep breath and keep my eyes closed tight. There is a bright light burning over my eyes. I wish I could close another set of eyelids over my eyes. I turn over onto my stomach and plant my face into my folded arms. I guess this will have to do. It's comfortable enough for a floor. Why am I sleeping on a floor?

I open my eyes and lift up my head. The tiles on the floor are wide with a brown wavy pattern. I let my eyes follow the waves up and down and end at the begining of the next tile. I follow it up to the wall. I sit up and turn around. The wall behind me is tiled too. And next to me. But there is a door. It is heavy and it has a narrow window. I stand up and walk over to it. What a weird place to be. I look out the window and see a police officer pass through the hallway.

The police.

The laundry chute.

The dark room.

The child at the window.

The roof.

The blue cloaked finger pulling back a curtain.

The tunnel.




Those workers.

That weird shower room.

The McDonald's.

This is a jail cell. I'm in a jail cell.

I can't believe I got arrested. Lime got arrested recently. She thinks that J put her there as a punishment. Did he do the same thing to me? Does he know that I found her a new place to live and that I'm helping her get away from him? How would he have found out about it? I didn't even tell Lime yet. Maybe he just knows. Maybe she told him that she wants to leave after talking to me about it. Maybe talking to me about it gave her the practice she needed to feel like she could confront him, and he noticed that she did it right after hanging out with me all day and the night before, and he blames me for it. Would he really do all that? If he did, it makes sense that they would show up at my apartment first. He probably knows where I live. He could have watched Lime's location a few tmes and figured that out. I don't think he knows my registered ID name. Does he? Have I ever used my real ID in front of him? I don't have my backpack. The police probably took those other IDs. Why didn't I use one at that McDonalds? That's probably how they found me there. I feel myself sigh. I don't want to think about it anymore. I want to keep riding this cloud of calmness. I just need to wait until they question me to see what's going on. I won't know anything until then anwyay. There is no point in speculating yet.

Time feels like it is passing so slowly.

It feels like I have to move it along myself with my thoughts.

I chant song lyrics in my head over and over to make sure I am still passing through time and not just stuck in the same moment.

Time needs to pass so that I can get out of here. There's nothing else I can do but make sure that time keeps moving along.

I count the tiles across the floor.

Then I count them up the wall, across the floor and up the wall again.

I assign each tile 1 measure of the song in my head. I sing along from one tile to the next, to the next, to the next, to the next, to the next. Over and Over and Over. I used to use this song to time my tea so I knew it was 2 minutes long. But how many times have I sung it? I sing it once for each tile.

Then I can count the hours. It takes so long. Is this making it worse? I shouldn't have fallen asleep, then I would really know how long I've been in here. I get up and look out the window into the hallway. I can't see any outside windows. I wonder if the sun is still up. Is there any way to know if the sun is up right now? It was morning when I slid out of my apartment. I was probably in that tunnel for a couple hours but they found me pretty soon after. But wait, how did I get here? Did they put me in a police car? Why can't I remember? Did they knock me out? And that's why I was asleep? Well I couldn't have been asleep for that long. They probably need to come and have me fill out forms, and take my finger prints and photos and stuff, right? They couldn't have done all that with me asleep. They'll be around soon, I'm sure. The floor is so hard. I wish they would have at least put a chair in here. What if I have to go to the bathroom? I don't have to go, but I probably will, and then what?

I stretch my back out and try to relax my shoulders.

I scoot against a wall. It's so cold.

I close my eyes and try to ignore the cold tile on my shoulders.

His door didn't have a number. Well, it did but not on the door. The number was on the other door. The real door. His was the antidoor. In an alley. The car had a triangle. I'm trying my best. I don't know, they were just sad songs. There was a part that wasn't songs but I don't know what it said. I don't know. It wasn't a language that I know. I can't remember. I can't remember what it was. If it was something I knew, then I could remember, but I can't.

©2019 by Zita