Mr. Nazeer Ahmed, wakes up slowly. His eyes open gradually. His arms and legs stretch. From the blurry yellow light objects begin to take form. He rolls slightly to his side and is about to drop out of his bed when his body orders the eyes wide open and his hands to flail out. One leg in air the other still in bed, he catches himself on the bedpost.
What? This isn’t my bed. This isn’t my room. Where am I?
His eyes are greeted with a very bland sight of a room. The paint is chipped in places. A dirty mirror hangs on the wall in front of him. Besides the mirror a single steel hook, which appear to be the ad hoc wardrobe: shirts, pants, underpants, vests, all hang from it. On the floor, underneath this wardrobe sits a pile of socks. Some flies buzz about them…
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