The caption head keeps saying “one more time”. You’ve lost track of how many times he’s said it. The sun is rising.
The bus pulls into the housing site. The drum majors get off to go find the sleeping areas. They do not return.
This gym seems familiar. They all seem familiar. You can’t tell them apart anymore.
You enter the field. It is silent. There is a crowd, but no noise. There is no announcement. The drum major counts off.
Your tech tells you to go touch the fence. You keep running. You never find the fence.
The water doesn’t taste right. It is dark and tastes gamey. You think you see something move in your jug.
The vets say that you won’t hurt after three weeks. They were right. You can’t feel anything in general now.
Staff says you should get five hours of floor time, but as soon as you close your eyes, the gym lights come on.
The gym lights are motion sensored. They come on and you sit up. No one is moving.
Things disappear in the bays. Then under your seat. You worry that what’s sitting in the seat is next.
You feel your seat partner lean against you in the night. You look over and they are asleep in the aisle. You close your eyes and don’t open them until you arrive at the housing site.
The showers are dimly lit. You all stick to one side because you swear something is on the corner.
You have pasta for dinner, but it tastes like pb&j. Your cereal in the mornings tastes like pb&j. Your water tastes like pb&j. Everything tastes like pb&j.
“What state are we in?” No one can answer. No one knows. Staff won’t tell anyone.
A cloud is almost covering the sun. It does not move for the entire block.
A field judge is in front of you. He follows you for the whole show. He has a tape recorder, but doesn’t say anything into it.
You get home. No one recognizes you. You can no longer sleep on your bed. You still hear the distant clicking of a metronome everywhere you go.
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