"Where are you?" a haunting voice beckons then falls silent.
The silence lasts an eternity.
Then again, "Where are you?"
An unfamiliar ceiling. Or is it? "That could be my ceiling." a dazed Riley thinks. "Maybe if it would stop moving for a second I could figure it out."
She rolls over in an effort to get up.
"Well this is definitely not my floor."
A cheerful voice rings out in the distance. It informs her of the aspirin on the table by her side and the glass of water with it. It lets her know breakfast is almost ready.
"Oh that's right. I went to Katie's place last night for movies and wine. I don't even remember what we watched." Riley rises unsteadily to her feet and takes the aspirin. Then saunters over to the table and flops into a chair, trying her best to will the outside world and her headache to disappear. The food smells like food. She forces herself to nibble at it despite the writhing protests of her stomach. "Katie is cheerful as always. She remarks about how I must have finished the bottle myself after she went to bed. I did. And I'd do it again. It helps me not think."
Riley responds appropriately to what Katie says. Then makes up an excuse and leaves. She walks straight home and crawls into bed. She dreams vividly for three hours. Her alarm wakes her and she changes her clothes, pats down her hair, and goes to work.
Work is uninteresting, soul-crushing even. Everyday is a rerun of the last. Nothing ever changes. No one ever understands. When asked to perform a specific task, Riley does the task exactly as asked. When she is finished, they tell her it was wrong. They admit she did what was asked, but she should have known to also do other things they didn't ask. Or to do things differently than asked.
Riley stares them dead in the eye without emotion. She asks how she would know to do things without being told those things need doing. They say it's only common sense. Anyone would just know to do it automatically. That she's strange for not understanding that.
Riley sees no logic in this reasoning. She nods. At eight o clock she leaves.
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