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I
do
n't
move
.
The
bucket
rocks
on
my
arm
.
I
do
n't
make
a
sign
I
heard
.
He
's
trying
to
trick
me
.
He
asks
me
again
to
get
up
,
and
when
I
do
n't
move
he
rolls
his
eyes
up
to
the
ceiling
and
sighs
,
reaches
down
and
takes
my
collar
,
and
tugs
a
little
,
and
I
stand
up
.
He
stuffs
the
sponge
in
my
pocket
and
points
up
the
hall
where
the
staff
room
is
,
and
I
go
.
And
while
I
'm
walking
up
the
hall
with
the
bucket
,
zoom
,
the
Big
Nurse
comes
past
me
with
all
her
old
calm
speed
and
power
and
turns
into
the
door
.
That
makes
me
wonder
.
Out
in
the
hall
all
by
myself
,
I
notice
how
clear
it
is
--
no
fog
any
place
.
It
's
a
little
cold
where
the
nurse
just
went
past
,
and
the
white
tubes
in
the
ceiling
circulate
frozen
light
like
rods
of
glowing
ice
,
like
frosted
refrigerator
coils
rigged
up
to
glow
white
.
The
rods
stretch
down
to
the
staff-room
door
where
the
nurse
just
turned
in
at
the
end
of
the
hall
--
a
heavy
steel
door
like
the
door
of
the
Shock
Shop
in
Building
One
,
except
there
are
numbers
printed
on
this
one
,
and
this
one
has
a
little
glass
peephole
up
head-high
to
let
the
staff
peek
out
at
who
's
knocking
.
As
I
get
closer
I
see
there
's
light
seeping
out
this
peephole
,
green
light
,
bitter
as
bile
.
The
staff
meeting
is
about
to
start
in
there
,
is
why
there
's
this
green
seepage
;
it
'll
be
all
over
the
walls
and
windows
by
the
time
the
meeting
is
halfway
through
,
for
me
to
sponge
off
and
squeeze
in
my
bucket
,
use
the
water
later
to
clear
the
drains
in
the
latrine
.
Cleaning
the
staff
room
is
always
bad
.
The
things
I
've
had
to
clean
up
in
these
meetings
nobody
'd
believe
;
horrible
things
,
poisons
manufactured
right
out
of
skin
pores
and
acids
in
the
air
strong
enough
to
melt
a
man
.
I
've
seen
it
.
I
been
in
some
meetings
where
the
table
legs
strained
and
contorted
and
the
chairs
knotted
and
the
walls
gritted
against
one
another
till
you
could
of
wrung
sweat
out
the
room
.
I
been
in
meetings
where
they
kept
talking
about
a
patient
so
long
that
the
patient
materialized
in
the
flesh
,
nude
on
the
coffee
table
in
front
of
them
,
vulnerable
to
any
fiendish
notion
they
took
;
they
'd
have
him
smeared
around
in
an
awful
mess
before
they
were
finished
.
That
's
why
they
have
me
at
the
staff
meetings
,
because
they
can
be
such
a
messy
affair
and
somebody
has
to
clean
up
,
and
since
the
staff
room
is
open
only
during
the
meetings
it
's
got
to
be
somebody
they
think
wo
n't
be
able
to
spread
the
word
what
's
going
on
.
That
's
me
.
I
been
at
it
so
long
,
sponging
and
dusting
and
mopping
this
staff
room
and
the
old
wooden
one
at
the
other
place
,
that
the
staff
usually
do
n't
even
notice
me
;
I
move
around
in
my
chores
,
and
they
see
right
through
me
like
I
was
n't
there
--
the
only
thing
they
'd
miss
if
I
did
n't
show
up
would
be
the
sponge
and
the
water
bucket
floating
around
.
But
this
time
when
I
tap
at
the
door
and
the
Big
Nurse
looks
through
the
peephole
she
looks
dead
at
me
,
and
she
takes
longer
than
ordinary
unlocking
that
door
to
let
me
in
.
Her
face
has
come
back
into
shape
,
strong
as
ever
,
it
seems
to
me
.
Everybody
else
goes
ahead
spooning
sugar
in
their
coffee
and
borrowing
cigarettes
,
the
way
they
do
before
every
meeting
,
but
there
's
a
tenseness
in
the
air
.
I
think
it
's
because
of
me
at
first
.
Then
I
notice
that
the
Big
Nurse
has
n't
even
sat
down
,
has
n't
even
bothered
to
get
herself
a
cup
of
coffee
.
