The air is so dank I find it hard to breathe. I can hear some kind of skittering sounds around me, hidden but enough so that it makes my skin crawl.
All I am wearing are shorts and a vest, and I feel as if I have slept a thousand years. There isn’t much light, but what there is I can see lots of cubicles, mostly empty, but a few with broken glass, like the one I seem to have lived in.
Was I born here? I don’t even know my name, if I even have one.