Behind Glass
They want you to get mad, I tell myself. Don’t give them the satisfaction. And that calms me; I’m still incensed, but damned if I’ll show it.
Another handful of pebbles rattles off the glass of my enclosure. It takes a strong force to pretend not to notice, but I manage to supress the reflexive twitch.
Show them that you’re a civilized being, and not the monster they expect you to be. I do my best to act casual, in the absurdly exaggerated surrounds of the habitat they've built for me.
What I wouldn’t give for a book to read.
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