(Originally written: September 28, 2020)
The walls are thin in the capsule apartments.
I sat in mine, crossed legged on the straw bedroll. My ankles throbbed from feeling the floor just underneath. The ache started from my buttocks and inched its way up as the hours passed. It claimed my lower back first. Then middle, the muscles contracting tight around my spine. Finally my shoulders. They dragged exhaustingly at my stubborn, rigid posture.
I listened and looked at the bottom left corner of the right wall.
My legs were asleep. They had announced it first. Sending pins and needles from my soles all the way to my hips. Little by little, the tingling left and numbness took its place. For awhile. Then the muscles in my calves and thighs writhed under the pallor of my skin as they began to cramp. It burned and stabbed.
I listened and looked at the bottom left corner of the right wall.
The air conditioning was turned off. The heat outside was quick to lay claim to the indoors. It pressed on me like an unwelcome and curious hand. My skin flushed a pale pink and sweat began beading. Little by little, with no pattern, it would drip from my nose and my eyebrows.
I listened and looked at the bottom left corner of the right wall.
The lights were turned off with the water. The faucet was quick to stop dripping its thick droplets into the sink. My eyes were still blind to the room and all it contained. I was in a void. I could hear my neighbors shuffle on their bedrolls. None of them snore. All of them are restless. At first. One by one, as my eyes began seeing in the dark, they stop moving.
I listened and looked at the bottom left corner of the right wall.
There’s a hole in that spot. I know that since I had once seen a red light flashing through it when I first moved in. Its steady pattern had lulled me into sleep. I had forgotten about it after. Lived my life for two months. Forgotten the little red light. And its pattern.
Until I began hearing the taps and scratches. Never when I tried to listen for them. Only when absolute quiet caught me by surprise. So I waited tonight. I waited for when it would be quiet enough to hear, and dark enough to see.
The red light flashed. It coincided with the taps and scratches.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Tap. Tap. Tap.
The walls are thin in the capsule apartments.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Tap. Tap. Tap.
S.O.S. S.O.S. S.O.S.
I laid down, stretched my stiff legs, and went to sleep.
I Am Saha 