Leave Them Be – Thomas Wood

A clock hung as guardian above the locked steel door. Each ticking second was a sledgehammer, shattering the darkened silence, slamming against the concrete slabs of the enclosure. He rolled in his bunk toward the wall, away from the contraption at the far end of the room. The metal frame groaned; each sight and sound a reminder of his plight.

21-306 slept furthest from the door, in the bottom bunk. An honor he earned through longevity and nothing more. As more experienced men lost their way, he moved away from the cold steel, and the clock, one bunk at a time.

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