Eventually, I give in, really to my hunger, and get up, ignoring everyone talking and passing food around and make my way to the “buffet” counter where I won’t have to interact with anyone. I say buffet, but it couldn’t even be called something that appetizing. Really, the food consists of various slops of watered down soups and stale bread more akin to hard tack than anything edible.

“Good afternoon, how are you feeling today?” I hear a deep voice next to me but I largely ignore it, irritated at the fact they pointed out it is afternoon but I only just woke up. 

“Hey, are you alright?” They ask, insisting I answer them for some reason. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Really? Because I can’t help but notice you moping around everyday here.”

Starting to get aggravated at their insistence on having my cooperation, I reply aggressively, “And what’s it to you? Is there some problem with the way I carry myself that concerns you?”

“Haha, no, but if I was you I would consider helping around the cause sometime, you wouldn’t be able to eat or sleep here if it weren’t for the tireless efforts of everyone else around.”

“Mmm, I’ll consider it, thanks.” I reply with passive aggressive kindness, leveling my tone to sound brighter. It’s not that I don’t understand what they’re saying, but what’s the point? I only sleep here because I have to sleep, only eat here because I don’t want to be hungry. I want nothing to do with any of this, and it’s not like any of us have a future here except for existing. 

They make a derisive remark and walk off, apparently not wanting to deal with me any longer.

Fed up with the short interaction, I take my plate outside into the busy street, rounding the corner into an alley where the vocal noise is somewhat dampened so I can eat in relative peace. Finishing my food quickly, I sit against the wall in the shade for a while until my joints begin tightening and I get up, taking a walk around the alley.

Walking down the shadows of the alley, a migraine hits my head like a hammer behind my eyes and visions of grey strike view, intruding on the world around me, the alley merging with the sight of the destruction zone that I ventured into. The view of the destruction zone overpowers all, and I feel my body slam into the ground, but feel no causal pain, instead all my attention is forced to the various greys of the apocalyptic zone as I make out the sight before me: an altar. An enormous structure built on a marble stage similar to a dais, with the fire of hell on either side, radiating like waves. For a moment I feel as If my body is truly in this vision, feeling the warmth of god radiate across my body, but it soon fades just as quickly as it came and the vision flashes away. My eyesight returns with a dull pain behind the eyes that makes me hesitant to look around, but I clearly see wet and worn concrete of the alleyway, pain flooding over my face lying on the ground, seemingly from the fall. 

I lie there dazed for a moment, a feeling of utterless lack of control over my own body overwhelming my instincts and reducing my thoughts to nil. 

I- what just happened? Am I sick or something? My thoughts drift into chaos as I try to come up with explanations for that bizarre occurrence, the first being that I might be severely sick. Would a brain tumor or something crazy cause visions? Am I schizophrenic? I mean, I feel like this dull thumping behind my eyes could be something like a tumor and could that cause visions? My dreams have been pretty active so I guess I could be day dreaming if something like that was about to knock me out but I don’t really know how any of that works. 

Feeling lethargic, I put my arms under me to prop my upper body, stumbling my legs under me. I stand myself upright and brace myself against the wall under my suddenly flimsy feeling legs. Did I hit my head that hard?

With the aid of the alley walls, I make my way to the street and stumble back into the dehomed shelter, falling into my sleeping pile and ignoring the gasps around me fall into a black sleep.