My kitten killed itself, I didn’t know what to do when I saw it walk off my apartment’s balcony. I don’t know why I watched her walk off into the sky just before the sun rose. I went to the metal bars where my kitten wandered through and looked at the foot of the building and how there was a pink spot. I went to the bottom floor of the building. The sky was turning all pale purple and pink. I thought of veins reaching through the sky and spiralling down to the red spot where my cat was supposed to be.
Where is my cat, I thought.
    My neighbors over the next few days would try to talk to me about my cat and console me. Half of the people I saw I didn’t recognize. I would nod at them. Whenever I watched them speak the feeling I would get was the feeling I wasn’t with them at all. Each day I woke up I felt presences. They seem to push towards me from the walls and ceiling. It’s like a mouth almost.

2. commercial space
I realize, staring at my psychopharmacologist’s face, without feature and his voice a low and single tone and his eyes not glistening or wet or even resembling marbles that the world is draining before me. One thing feels like it is above me but I can’t place where it is. I feel my hands seizing up. I feel blood drain from my face. I feel icy.
    My body is turning into an octopus. Out of water I don’t know what to do. I’m not flopping everywhere. I am perfectly still and confused but tremors are coming. Every inch of me is getting colder with these tremors. I am going to start shaking all over. He is going to facelessly come and smack me where my body connects to my head. I have seen videos of people doing this to octopi and squid and how they stop moving and how they go from red to white. They don’t die properly when that happens they are trapped in their brain for a few moments feeling nothing but emptiness swallowing them. They are smart and they are thinking in circles they must be thinking things like, where am I going, where is my body, I can see myself a little bit. I see the carpet again.
    He says something to me and I don’t hear him, I say something to him and I don’t hear myself. He is looking at me and he doesn’t seem all too concerned. He writes a prescription on a blue sheet of paper that looks like a cheque. It is for 350 mg a day of effexor. A long time ago doctors would look at me.
They said, things are wrong with you.
They said, we don’t know what things yet.
Hey, says the doctor.
Here’s your prescription.
Thanks.
So this dosage is fine and everything?
I nod.
	He gives me a thumbs up. Everytime I have seen him he has given me a thumbs up. I wonder if this is a thing friendly people do.
     In his office there is a girl sitting behind a counter. She smiles at me and almost says something before I leave the room. I look behind me and she is without a face. In white letters her face is now the doctor’s name. She is moving like a spider shriveling up. It is all echoes of humanity through this glass door. I rub my thumb across the paper for the prescription and I feel ink rub off onto me. It is worthless now. This is fine.
Next to this office is another and the lights aren’t on and the white lettering has been half stripped away. The door is unlocked and inside there is nobody. I can see the city in purple light through the lines of windows. No light comes through the windows or through the door. Perfectly in shadow I can see three fake plants against the window. I can see a plastic phone. There are no chairs to sit in and despite the phone and despite the failed attempt to remove all lettering from the door, it seemed as though no one has ever been in here before. The plants rustle from the AC. The vents make no sound. The city looks as stagnant as this room through the windows. It is like an aquarium.
    After exiting I hear the tiny voices on plastic phones echoing into decoherence. The building’s halls are never straight and they all end in 90 degree corners. It is like four commas meeting. Sometimes there are other hallways. Sometimes they go further into or further out the building. Sometimes I can’t tell. There are stairways up but not down sometimes. There are lots of emergency exits. The flames that the stick person is running from look like claws. There are sometimes other buildings connected to the main building or at least the building I am in. I have forgotten if there is a main building. They are connected by a hall with lots of windows. Somehow I can’t see anything through the windows. There are sometimes windows completely consumed by fake or living plants. I can’t tell. They all look black and thin and brittle. There are some windows covered completely by buildings. Sometimes I can see into the other buildings. I see into a hallway of another building. There is a shadow walking through it. There are more shadows. They close a door and they disappear into blackness.
There is probably some way out soon.
I find an elevator and it opens on my level. I am on the 12th floor. No one in the elevator gets out. They are staring at me. They are all pointed towards me. Their clothes end in points. I do not get in the elevator. The building’s stairwell is covered in vines and fake irises. The vines drag the fake plants up and along the wall breaking them apart and the fake irises cut into the vines and they wrap around one another. The stairwell is cool and bluish. In the night I don’t  know where I am. This is not the building I entered through. I can’t find the moon in the sky. The black sky is only populated with streetlights. There are no cars or people around.