Inspired by a post a few days ago…

It’s so hot in here. Oh god, there it is again. That overwhelming…I’m going to throw up, I’m going to throw up, I’m going to throw up. And arrroooooound it goes. I lean over and retch onto my toes. Every time I try to crawl to higher ground, I slide back down the slippery, droplet-speckled metal walls. There is no escape. We’re all going to suffocate in here. I try to hold onto her, but can’t keep her in my grasp. I realize she’s not trying to hold back onto me. No‑no!‑She…She’s giving up. I can still see her pained eyes as she falls away from me, sliding into a menagerie of different textures and colors. I make the gut-wrenching decision to let her go and make a run for it. That was the last time I ever saw her…my other half. My life-mate. I looked around feverishly and examined my options. The clear glass window lets me see the next room, but I’m not strong enough to break it. I tried that. The air must be coming from somewhere… Metal everywhere. No dice. Ah, up there! To the top left, a hole that must be connected to a hose. But I can’t reach all the way up there. Nix that. Sharp dents like divots in the grass stick out of the metal underneath me. I look down into one. Black. What if there really is a troll down there? I’ve heard others talk… Oh god, hurry, running out of options. No escape. It’ll turn back on any time now. Something clicks on above my head. Now! I roll myself up, as thin and as tight as I can, and squeeze one of my toes through the hole. I lose a few threads to its jaws, but I’m nowhere near small enough. What was I thinking? A paper clip couldn’t fit through that thing. I’ll just have to hide and endure it, waiting for the right time, like an attic Jew in the Holocaust. It’ll be over soon. I slide through the bustle of the crowd and crawl into the pocket of her tightest jeans, waiting for the inevitable opening of the door and the cold rush of air that fills the chamber like an unexpected blizzard. When will this horrific cycle end?I lie in wait, close, hibernating, and slightly claustrophobic, trying to control the quickness of my breath as I stare out the window, not flinching, not blinking. She’ll never expect me here. When she folds, I’ll slip out and hide somewhere else. I’ll wait for as long as I have to to escape this place. She’ll never suspect.
-Diary of a Misfit Sock, discovered sometime around January 2011


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