I’ve never seen anything this clean in my life. My little cot, my toliet, and even the floor, all filled with bright light. It doesn’t bother me to sleep anymore. My days are filled; I wake up, sleep again, wake up, ponder existence, think of escape, and go back to sleep. I may have neighbors, but I can never really tell if they are there for the few times of been outside this cell of mine, I break down, my legs give out. I fall, but I get to dream.
These times when my body and mind decide to give out I can see my life before this damn prison and cell. My wife and her smiling face. She always kept her lips a deep red and her teeth white, I liked that about her. So neat. She stopped visiting, I miss her body and the way she could fit perfectly into mine. Her hands laced in between mine. My daughters, they took away their pictures, I suppose they are thirteen at this point. When I dream, those times they try to take me out, it’s them I dream about. Being there to watch them grow, love, and cry. I even dream about the fights we would have over boys and the clothes they would wear.
I don’t know much about my neighbors either. Since I barely leave this place it’s hard to know what they look like. I can tell you how they sound. The one on my right screams and wails all the time in gibberish while at other times he professes on his American Citizenship and his rights. My left I can hear the constant pounding on the wall. Beginning with rapid taps and then intermittent with slower ones like a body being shoved up against a wall. Iguess their room looks a lot like mine though I suppose at least the one on the left would have more dents.
I’ve never done a thing wrong in my life except wish to be with my family closer than anyone else. They’re dead now and they’ve stuck me here. What’s so wrong with wanting to tie up a loose end?