I scribbled a message on a paper towel and pinned it to the stall door in the men's bathroom. The extent of my productivity...
I don’t know how much longer I can survive here. I have been sustaining myself, if you can
call it that, on the rats I catch and the driblets of urine that seep through
the pipes.
But the rats decrease steadily in number and the urine has
lost what little nutritional value it ever had.
I fear the office workers in the surrounding cubicles do not eat as
healthily as they should and this, alas, affects my comportment.
I fear that my sanity is in ruins, that with every day I
crouch here, trapped, a valuable part of my identity flakes away forever.
Already, the face of my beloved fades. How I miss her. I wonder what she smells like? Lilac, I can only assume. Ringlets of golden hair.
One day, I will be freed from my imprisonment. Until that day comes…
…I leave this letter, written on a filthy paper towel I
retrieved from the adjoining restroom. If
you, whoever you are, find this and not me, know that I have done the
unthinkable. Know that I have given up.
For Humanity
Richard Larkindale
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