The curtain swayed back and forth, outside a glimmering flicker of what could be construed as hope. It had been two months. Sixty-eight days to be exact. Unless I missed a count which is both unlikely and very likely given my current circumstances. The stench of mildew, mold and living in a cage for sixty-eight days will do that to you.

My abode is cramped but spacious enough for a bed and I have a host gracious enough to provide me with some lovely steel bars for my protection.

What have I done in order to be in such elegant conditions? What have I done? What would I have of done? Unspeakable, ungracious, unbecoming things

Things that a man has to shed his humanity and step forward as something else after.

But I’ve been granted newfound wisdom. A new lease from my release in just sixty-eight days. A man should as I cannot be caged. Even if I cannot quench my rage.