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i'm not upset
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Caleb sat with his back to the scratched-up door. There was no noise. He brought his thumb to his mouth and bit it slightly with the nail facing down. The only light coming in was from a window opposite him with bars set into the frame. The light cast from the window formed stripes in the room.

He heard his heart beating, but nothing else. He reached down and unzipped the duffle bag at his feet. The zipper crackled. Still no noise. Maybe whoever was here had left. His hand poked around and felt familiar textures like bottles of water and food bars. He pulled a first aid kit out and inspected it, then put it back. What he wasn't ready for was a clammy rubber feel.

Caleb's mouth pulled into a cynical half-smile. It was a mask of the head of the 37th president of the United States. He put the mask on over his whole head, including his beanie. There were holes for the eyes and a hole for his mouth, though it included Nixon's large teeth as if he was in the middle of a sentence.

"I'll sell our children's organs to zoos for meat," said Caleb in his best Nixon voice, shaking his head to see if the mask was appropriately jowl-y. He was even more hopelessly fucked than before, but it cheered him up a little. Finding his hands had stopped shaking somewhat he pulled out a cigarette from his pocket and successfully lit it, pushing the plume of smoke through the mouth hole in the mask.
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Lone Wolfe · Intensive Care Wards