You wake up in a hot, stuffy room. You don’t know how you got here. You don’t even know where here is. There are no windows, the walls are plainly painted and there is a distinct sterile smell. The florescent lights shine in your eyes, making it difficult to sleep, even as you lay immobile hour after hour. But no sense of time makes it impossible to know how many hours you have laid there. You can hear people speaking but they aren’t speaking to you. You are aware of people passing by but they don’t acknowledge you. When you do manage to speak to someone, they don’t know what is happening. We are waiting, they say, but they aren’t clear what you or they are waiting for, or how long the wait might take. So you lay there. Disorientated. Disconnected.