Half a kilometer beneath the streets, lit by mirrors, sits Marta X on a low stool which bends her knees up to her navel. She faces another stool on which rests a mobile phone propped against a brick so that it's angled to face her.
"I run my hands along surfaces and feel things I can't otherwise imagine. I feel a different world, not the one I see before me. It ain't real you know, neither of them are. I never knew the real one. Don't remember it anyhow."
Her voice leaves it's mark on the chamber otherwise untouched by movement. Her words return from the walls cleaner and sharper.
"The real one just ain't in me. This twitch in my shoulders; that ain't it. Just uncomfortable in my skin you know. Whatever that is. Chasing an itch that won't be caught."
She cricks her neck and reaches up to rub shoulder against ear. Opening her eyes again she sees through matted hair the daylight reflected above. Mirror on mirror on mirror bleeds it down long shafts.
She places her hands down either side of the mobile phone and then lifts them to inspect the palms. Blackened with soot they stare her down. She sweeps up the phone and clicks a button before rising and stepping to the wooden gate across the tunnel entrance. She could just step over it but instead bends down and fiddles with the clasp. Through, she bends once again to secure it.
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