![]() ![]() I don’t so much as see a water bottle affixed to her cage. Her words are hoarse, either from fear or-more likely-dehydration. Instead of a simple yes or no, her voice is rough when she asks a question of her own. “Do you know where the keypad is to render you free?” I’m also trying desperately not to be distracted by the insoluble sticky ball still attached to the bottom of my foot, but there’s a tackiness and a slight hesitation every time I shift my weight. Not letting go of her hands, I look around, pressure building up behind my sternum every second that she’s caged behind these ugly orangish-red oxidation-coated bars. It’s hard to say what she’s really feeling though. ![]() ![]() “Of course you’re not all right they didn’t leave you with so much as a sanitation wipe dispenser, you poor thing.”Īfter a moment, the shaking thing peeks up at me, her brow dipping low in a manner that I’d normally read as confusion. “Are you… are you all right?” I shake my head at myself. Feeling the strangest tug in the region of my cardiac muscle, I feel for the soft insides of her palms and stroke there with my thumbs. ![]()
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