Klempner

What's the obsession with potatoes?

I called her Potato Face when she was a kid.

What does she look like now?

Jenny was no looker at that age…

… But she matured. Bloomed.

Juliana... Never the same twice.

I scratch at my beard. I’ve never liked facial hair in hot climates, but I don’t have a choice right now. Even so, the flourishing colony of lice that has stowed aboard adds an extra edge of irritation.

Lice…

Where the fuck did they come from?

Can rat lice live on humans?

Having a fucking good go at it…

I catch one, squeezing the revolting thing between my fingernails. It bursts with a Pop!

Only another 999 to go…

*****

The boredom’s the worst. Endless hours. Endless days and nights. I’ve no idea how long.

The only breaks in the monotony are Juliana’s visits: just long enough to sit, eat something at me, toss a potato at me.

No, not Juliana: Solana.

Why's she so obsessed with the name?

How many names have I used over the years? Worn like a suit of clothes to be discarded when the weather changes and something different is needed.

I’ve never been defined by my name.

But she sees it differently…

Something skritches and I jerk a look sidelong

It’s a rat…

Just a rat…

down

It’s just a rat…

openings, more scratching.

you gaze long enough into an abyss, the

Who said that?

Nietzsche?

Depressing bastard…

and whiskers. I come equipped with fists and feet. Between us,

*****

know what

over her eyes. She takes something from her lunchbox, unwrapping one of her usual dainties from

condition where, in a kidnap or hostage situation, the prisoner forms

“You saying you're

Her head tilts. She pretending mockery, but I have her attention. “… But there's a reverse condition. It's called Lima syndrome, where the captor comes to empathise with

“So?”

your

of chocolate cracks off the small round cake, dropping back into the napkin and she dabs

do you keep

mouth hanging a

do you keep coming? If all you wanted was to watch me rot, you have your camera there.”

have to feed you. I assume you do want me to feed you? We can always change

were the only reason, you could leave me a bag of potatoes and come once

not speaking, simply regarding me. I continue. “Am I your only friend, Sola? Is that it? You've murdered everyone else that

“So, you're my

you're worth it? The daughter you had slated as a sex-slave when she was a kid? That middle-aged hooker? You've not changed, Larry. I can see right through you. The same heartless bastard that shipped me out to dig up potatoes for the rest of my life. Along with all

her arms, sits back in her seat, arches her brows. “I am

eyes, I keep my voice mild. “Did I say otherwise? I'm not claiming to have changed. Who ever

“Solana…” she hisses.

some of it dropping just this side of that painted line, now less than white. Even under the heavy

heel, she stalks

snaps taut, I snatch up the discarded meal from the filthy concrete, scrabbling to grab

eyes adjust to the green blink of the camera. It hardly matters. My

is almost untouched, only a single bite taken from the corner. And I have half

anything like this

For how long?

no idea. Weeks? Months? My sense of time is out

had a

empanada, then another, I ram the food into

goes down the wrong way and suddenly I’m no longer eating, but

barf it up, where

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