#arniom

There’s a wide screen that takes up almost the full wall. No one has seen a device since the war, definitely not a working one nor a broken one. The black glass shines on the wall. A voice comes from the ceiling. My eyes move on their own, stuck to the speaker that vibrates rhythmically every time there's a slight sound. 

As the attention of the room directs to the speaker. The speaker doesn’t say a single word. There’s just an awfully annoying shuffling noise. All eyes in the room meet each other in united confusion. My ears feel like they’re flooding with water to the point I can’t hear anything. 

Our eyes meet at the speaker again, and the chair that nearly hit the speaker. The attention centers on whoever threw the chair. They seem to be a woman but apparently I wouldn’t know. She screams incoherent somethings at the speaker. I see the others in the room antagonizing the girl, yet for an unknown reason, I feel a sense of familiarity after god knows how long. 

Her heated tantrum cools down, so do the stares. The stares become impolite glances, and glances become quiet thoughts. She reminds me of my extremely loving father, oh how parental love just crawls inside my mind. My eyes immediately darted to my side, seeing the boy staring with his soul at me for god knows what reason. 

I have to choose to ignore it or else I might have to participate in the most dreadful thing ever, a conversation with a borderline stranger. I think he wants to ask me my name or something like that, or at least he looks like he wants to. The back of his shirt catches my eye, N stitched on the top of his stretched out long t-shirt. 

Wow, he's got a name. Looks like the John Doe does have something to him. 

The silence prolongs, for a bit too long. The commotion with the girl was gone, maybe, but the mystery of why we were here was still very prominent. The question floods my mind, but sadly I'm no detective. My mind spirals without permission from my brain. 

Has this been going on for the last 1000 years?

Are we going to leave?

Can we leave?

Where's the exit?

My extremely deep and important pondering was soon disturbed by the blonde bug that happened to be in my premise. Actually I can’t say that, I’ve never even said a full sentence to the guy. My eyes meet his and he immediately stops in his tracks, like fully stopping. His step falters as he tries to chase after me.

“H-hey! Please c-can you wait up.” He said while panting, desperately gasping for air.

“Yes? Once again do you need something?” I deadpan at him even though my insides are starting to churn and mush up.

I don’t like this feeling, never did. The sensation gives me a chill down my spine, from my tailbone to my neck. When I was learning at the makeshift school at my shelter center, there was this girl.

 I never cared about things like relationships or friends, or maybe I never learned how to. Somehow, she felt so special, like an urge to do something that went against me. Talking to her became a hobby of some sort, almost a passion. 

And then, she left, from everyone's world including mine. I spiraled till there was nothing left to worry about, the absence of her was far too much for me to handle. After that small day, I never wanted to talk to anyone that made me feel like this.