Hello, Merry X~MAS.

Dear so and so,

I am stuck in hell. I am the last of a few scant survivors. We all have taken to massaging our gums and roaming the halls for a way out. Surely the world is alive and bustling, but here it is a wasteland of silence and the ever present hum of central air. Which I'm told will be cut off all next week. As the building will actually be closed. And then nothing else but quiet. quiet. quiet. Dead Air as one fleeing survivor termed it. That last thought now to inhabit my dulling mind, corrodes as it lingers into a manic urgency. I have got to get out of here!

I am little consoled by the Lawrence of Arabia poster, and the book i brought, "The Electric Michelangelo" lies like a glaring reminder of the world i can no longer see or hear. And it angrily goes unread.

I am on my fifth pint of water- I rapidly consume it out of boredom, as the dry air sucks all the moisture from my lips- parted and panting, my nose all stopped up. In order for my legs not to atrophy I take laps around the office- it's a loop after all- and try to decide if there's anything worth taking. I wear my black sweater cape. The thing about being in an abandoned place is that there really never is anything worth taking. Because all you desire in the end is to leave- and that in itself is your only remaining comfort, that you might somehow figure out how to escape.

The hopelessness of my situation is chilling me, and i feel compelled to go on another walk, and this time remove the kleenex from my dripping nose. Perhaps I'll come back with a snack from one of the cupboards or maybe some diet coke. Anything to shake the depressing thought of being in this place another parsect of time.

GodsMercy,
M.