I have been in this room with this woman for a while now. I do not know how long it has been; my cell phone was gone, along with all my other stuff, when I first woke up in here. The room is completely white, with no discernible doors or openings. There must be an opening of some sort, because we'd suffocate otherwise. Maybe the people (if they are people) who put us in this room are pumping oxygen into it, but I don't know how they could.
I stare at the woman's breasts for approximately ten seconds. I'm certain she notices. She does not, however, give me a scolding look, nor does she say a word. I'm sure she'd stare at my ass if she had the chance. There hasn't been a chance, though, since we've both been sitting at the card table in the center of the room since I first woke up.
The drone of the fluorescent lights is especially noticeable in the silence. Neither of us has said a single word. She doesn't seem to care that there's someone across the table from her, that she has company. She seems perfectly content sitting by herself, thinking about whatever the fuck she thinks about. And she's been like this since I first woke up. I stare in the general direction of her eyes to try to get her attention. After approximately seventeen seconds, she looks up at me. We make eye contact for approximately 0.4039 seconds, but bear in mind that that's a rough estimate.
Time passes: perhaps several hours, perhaps less than one. I've come up with a brilliant scheme to get her, the relatively beautiful young woman sitting across the card table, to speak to me. I shall tap out, in Morse code, the opening lines of “Creep” by Radiohead. I have determined through deductive reasoning that she is a Radiohead fan, and Radiohead fans hate “Creep.” She'll say “You know, 'Creep' is, like, Radiohead's worst song,” and I'll succeed in my goal. The plan is absolutely foolproof.
I begin to execute the plan. Morse code takes time, if one is to follow the rules for spacing letters and words, which I have to for this plan to work. Around the end of the second line, during the word “in,” she asks me, “What the hell are you doing?” I tell her to be quiet, since I'm trying to concentrate.
Due to the unexpected failure of my (supposedly) foolproof scheme, I am discouraged from attempting to communicate with her for a while. I don't know when I will try to establish contact with her again. I will need to devise and even more cunning plan before I do. Clearly, this woman is playing mind games with me.