I glimpse them from afar, winding up the main driveway like a funeral procession, headlights on as they creep along at half speed. My window is a poor vantage point, only allowing me to see a sliver of the sweeping front lawns and paved drive from my room, but as the vans turn around a curve and go out of sight, I glimpse the business logos on their sides.
The words are all in Polish, unrecognizable.
Kwiaty. Ciasto. Żywnościowy.
Even unrecognizable, they strike me cold with fear.
Hours pass. No one comes. The storm grows worse, battering the windows with rain, bending the trees with howling winds. The day wanes, growing darker. I have the sense of being lost in time, of being forgotten, stranded in my wrecked prison in some abandoned corner of the world.
Then I’m found again.
I leap
