When I wake up I know something is wrong, but what specifically I can't say. I can't say anything for certain. I can't say I'm in the wrong place. After all, I can't even say who I am.
I sit up and observe the room I am in. I was lying dead center of a tiny square room with one door in front of me. There was no furniture, no pictures, no anything. Just cold grey steel.
And I was naked.
I remember I am eighteen years old, I can remember, somehow what I look like, and I remember a lot of the history of the galaxy. But I don't know my own history, or how I got here, without a stitch. For I know, I could belong here.
Yet something seems wrong. I have to do something.
I stand up. If I weren't alone I would cover myself up, but as it is I just try to decide what to do, although my only choice seems obvious.
Copyright 2000 - 2024 21 x 20 Media All rights reserved. This site is property of 21 x 20 Media
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.10 seconds at 9:26pm on Nov 22, 2024 via server WEBX1.