Absent of familiar warmth, the cell displayed a tiring aggression for visitors. I was but one of many a visitor most unappealing to its curiosity and evident taste for brawns over brains. Swollen with anger, the cell walls were nothing short of ill-masked sorrow. They were dressed in distasteful writings of confessions of things better swept under the rug. Living pasts had claimed these walls and death was but a release for the poisoned souls whom had carved their dreadful fate upon its unyielding divider of freedom from hell.
As an outcast of sorts, I found myself feeling rather smug. I had no place amongst the repugnant rows of decrepit stone that tormented my innocence, yet I felt strangely in tuned with the desperate cries that for whatever reason seemed to deserve attention. Entranced by sheer exploration about the cells drab surface, I could not pull my eyes from their numerous cries for help. The next message was just as interesting as the last and on occasion, to my delight, I would discover reason to believe that man was capable of redemption. It was as if by being exposed to the magnificence before me, I had become intoxicated by utter curiosity.
Time was of no importance. In fact, aside from what little light had managed to intrude, it had done so unnoticed. Though it was a matter I frequently ignored, an undersized portion of food had made itself welcome and at home in front of my door. Nothing that deserved more then a passing glance of course, just bread and water really with the occasional company of a hello.
Had I been cast aside as some inconvenience better served after wine?
It is hard to say with conviction wether one would be more likely to retreat into ones self or simply explode with a surge of emotion under the grim circumstances of abandonment. However, with certainty one would easily see that I did not seem to do either, I just simply forgot.
