How I hold the door open for the police officer, and, unrelated, think about pouring out my hot cup of tea all over the pavement, for no real reason, so I drink it anyway.

In the soft light of an office near a bank of computer stations, I wait amidst pinned-up protocols, acres of spiral-wire, and binders marked “G A L L U P“.

I think ‘How I need to get out of here’ and whisper it under my breath. I think ‘How I need to get out of here’ and whisper it under my breath, while also whispering ‘I am a ghost’ and ‘I am a ghost’.

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