The concrete was cold and hard beneath the skin of my feet. Soft cold light fell through a small window, too high to look through. I stepped back from the east wall. Was it the east? I couldn’t say for sure, someone painted a big “E” on the wall, before my time. I just assumed the letter described the cardinal direction. Maybe it was for something else… A name, the rest of a word… perhaps what’s left when you call for help and nothing happens for too long and then when finally someone comes it just doesn’t matter anymore.
I stared at the door for some time. I didn’t bother trying to open it. It didn’t move for the first million times, it wouldn’t move now.
Some days I still think about the people in my life I remembered. The old woman who lived across the street, friendly at first but really cold when you got to know her. The shy boy who brought me my paper on some days.
The list grew shorter every time I really tried to recall them all. Friends, family – just a blur of grey faces. That’s how they get you. It’s never fast and easy. It’s an old, long procedure with no way out.
When they finally take you, open the damn heavy door you are just so grateful to see a human face, it doesn’t even matter who they are. They get all your longing, desire, and love. And then you’ll do everything they ask for.
I’m already lost.