sally was eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich that she had made herself.
with bread she had ordered two days ago.
and peanut butter and jelly she had ordered seven days ago.
in a room on the fifty-seventh floor of a building.
the room was not large.
or so she had been told.
but it was the only room on the fifty-seventh floor.
all of the one hundred and eleven floors of the building had one room of the same size.
each of the floors/rooms could only be accessed by its sole occupant.
that was the theory, anyway.
sally was not so sure.
how did you know?
she was always expecting a knock on the door.
there was only one door.
and one window.
from the window she could the desolate plain stretching away to the horizon.
the room had one table, one chair, one cot with one pillow, and one screen.
many things could be seen on the screen.
but more things could be seen inside her head.
and even more in her dreams.
her name was sally johnson.
but that was just a name.
she could make up a new one any time she wanted.
like veronica evans, or linda velaquez, or number 784, or old blood and guts.
or queen henrietta xvii, or sacramento annie, or blue star, or see you later.
meanwhile she listened for a knock on the door.
because how did you know?
you do not.
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