Kit BashirThe mice had been bringing me bits of cheese. I think I know where they were getting them, but I had been in this cell long enough not to squeam.
Today (is it day, kinda hard to tell but the stink seems to change tone at times which I put down to diurnal airflow far above) they brought me a key.
It took an hour (I have no idea how long but it felt long) to turn the key in the lock, stretching the SQWREEEEEclunk out so long it was subsonic. Another maybe-hour to open the door. The stink-gradient said “out” was thattaway, but the mice squeaked (discreetly!) that I should go thisaway.
“Down? Are you sure? Okay, I fucking hate sewer levels but youse have done me solid so far”
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