I’m sitting in…some sort of waiting room. I have no idea where it is. Or how I got here.
I think it’s a waiting room, anyway. There are a lot of chairs, and artwork made from…I don’t know, I think it’s trash…hanging on the walls. There are bits and scraps of magazines laying around on some mismatched end-tables, too. The people in them look like they’re from 1979. The only other person I can find is sitting behind a window filing her nails and snapping her gum. The whole room reeks of piss and it’s filthy.
The last thing I remember is my charming escorts marching me toward an old, rusted out shell of a bus. Before we got there, though, something…or someone…clocked me from behind. Next thing I know, I’m coming to in this crazy waiting room with a massive lump on the back of my head and a headache to rival the worst of hangovers.
No idea what I’m waiting for.
If I could find a door, I’d bolt.