I was somewhere–else. Squeaking wheels wake me. Fluorescent lights blind me. Where are they taking me? I blink but see only vague shapes. White and gray blurs pass on either side of the hard slab moving under by back. Where am I rolling to?

Opening my mouth, I try to ask. I shape words, but no sound emerges. My throat’s a desert. Sand grains stick to my mute tongue. What’s happening to me?

Heels click on a hard surface. Who has captured me? My captors’ breathing is ragged, and each exhalation tickles my skin. Is this the end of me?

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For the Friday Fictioneers