It looks much the same as when he rented it two weeks ago. He’s added three extra locks to the door and two additional latches to the lone window. A modest TV, that sits atop an ancient and nonworking console TV, which is bolted to the dresser top, along with new sheets are the only other alterations he’s made to the room. Reruns of his favorite shows, nearly all of which haven’t even aired in his current time period, consistently flicker on the new screen being fed from the device. Without the television’s noise, he’d hear the interstate, which would only remind him that everyone else is racing to a destination and he has nowhere to go. He has returned to the mall a few times, trying to distract himself with video games that he played years ago. Were she there with him, treading the old territory would have been a fun adventure—rediscovering old entertainments with the person he should’ve experienced them with the first time around. It would have been reminiscence reshaped into rapture, but it’s only been a lonely figure pushing buttons in a dark room.
