Tight Quarters

      I really don't know why I crawled into this tiny, dark place.  The pin size holes only let in enough light so that I still  know it isn't dark yet.

      The slate grey locker looked cool and inviting while the door was open. Not now, as I closed the door the darkness seemed to engulf the cheery light that was present before.

      Why did I have to go and shut it?  Sticking my finger in the little hole doesn't open it. I wonder when someone will come into this room so I can ask them to let me out.  "Help let me out of here!"  Oh well, there is no one there yet.

       The rust feels really crusty and coarse to the touch, and it's all crumbling on my legs. I don't like the way my knees feel all cramped,  pushed up to my chin. Hope someone comes soon, the musty smell of wet bathing suits is starting to get to me.  Boy am I glad I'm not a suit.

        The cold feel of the edge along my face is like someone holding a butter knife against it when I peer out the hole into the locker room.

         Hey I can hear voices coming this way. They seem distant like talking to someone on the phone in another state or country. I think I'll try again anyway, "Help let me out of here."

         "Who's there?" a voice answers back.
         "Me, Amy Sue. I'm stuck in a locker, help!"
         "We hear you Amy, keep talking so we know which one."
         "Here, I'll stick my finger in the hole. Can you see me? Thank God you made it. I thought I was going to starve. What time is it? I feel like I've been in there for hours."
          The lady replied, "Ten seventeen."
          "You're kidding! I've only been in these tight quarters twenty minutes." I exclaimed, "I don't believe it!"


Written by Joy Wallace April 9th 1985