It’s odd the things one misses. While Juliana was alive, I spent most of my time in the weird green-tinted gloom of the camera indicator light. Now I have the harsh whiteness of the single overhead light 24/7…
Not that 24/7 means much to me anymore…
Bleary-eyed, my hands scraping and chipping into the cement, my mind is cloudy, my lids droop.
How long have I been here?
Must be weeks by now…
Someone will have raised the alarm…
Surely?
Or was Juliana telling the truth? They already think I’m dead…
Would anyone care? Or even notice?
Mitch will...
For sure…
Definitely…
Mitch…
Christ… I’m hungry…
That Christmas table… James’ cooking…
Didn’t know turkeys came that size…
James might miss me.
Could we have been friends?
Maybe…
In some other world…
Some other life…
Michael?
I
