Every day, I wake up on a cold stab in the morgue.

I never know the time but I always know the day.

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday...

and then Monday all over again.

It's never Sunday but I don't mind much.

There's probably nothing special on Sunday.

ಌ

When I wake, I see him.

I guess, he's the one who unlocks my refrigerator door and pulls my tray out.

He watches me with stone cold eyes as if I am just another specimen.

He greets me with a 'Good Morning.'

But I don't believe him. My mother always tells me never to trust strangers.

Although I don't know the time, I know it's never morning.

His 'Good Morning' is more like a ritual than an actual indication of time or a friendly greeting.

He calls me by my name, 'Xinling' and asks me how I feel today.

Since he asks me, I tell him the truth. My mother always tells me never to lie.

So I tell him. I'm empty. Inside.

ಌ

He places a finger on his lips and smiles.

His smile is. Empty. Like my inside.

He tells me he's happy to hear I'm doing well.

But I don't believe him. I never will.

Not only because he's a stranger, he's a persistent liar.

When I ask him his name, he always tells me a lie.

No matter how many time I wake up to see him watching me, we are to be strangers.

Always and forever.

ಌ