Originally published in The Liar, Volume 22.

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I sit at a folded-out table as the nurse clatters behind the rolling metal door of the serving window. She's looking for something I'll eat. I can't take their pills on an empty stomach. Also, they took my shoelaces.

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Pale yellow pajamas itch around my ankles and when I lift my foot to scratch, the loose canvas sneaker goes tumbling. First, they took my shoelaces. Then they took my jeans, my wallet, my keys, and my phone. They took the Robertson screw that I had tucked in a pocket after I found it on the road and became entranced by