I kept getting the sense that the fence was growing taller, just as the cell we were in got smaller. Eyes watched us always. I felt like an open wound that wasn’t being tended to. Peter and I have been on good behavior for weeks, but still we are in the cells and not in the open camps as most of the others. No, we are in here with trouble makers—the threats to their new world. They knew they couldn’t trust us. I was starting to climb out on my skin.
I was marking each night on my shoes. I didn’t want to lose track of the days. This whole time I’ve managed to keep a pretty good sense of the time of year and I wasn’t planning on letting this unfortunate bump in the road change that. The ground’s natural pebbles could mark up my shoes if I pressed hard enough. So far I was making it work.
I kept waking up at night in a panic. At first I don’t release where I am and every time I forgot that I found him. That is something I should never forget. It is an important thing not to lose sight of the fact that I have him, and it’s amazing to see him.
I’ll feel much better once we get out.
I looked up from my black, worn sneaker. Peter was leaning against the back of the cell looking right at me. He nodded and carefully motion to the far left near the entry way. Two raiders were coming down the alleyway, holding boxes.
It was time.