The Freezer

Written by: Jessica D'Agostino

I cannot believe I can see
my own breath.
To amuse myself, I try
making shapes;
it doesn't work.
I see how fogged up
the glass on the door is.
I consider drawing on it,
and realize my fingers
will stick.
I wait about fifteen minutes.
This time, I consider writing
backwards "I am trapped. Let me out!"
Even if I lose a bit of skin,
someone might see it.
By this time, it's a half hour.
I take out a cigarette, but
my lighter won't ignite.
I shake it upside down,
hold it in my hands, and
it lights.
Ah. At least one thing to 
calm my nerves.
How did I even end up in here, 
I wonder.
Then, I remember.
I suppose my brain was
going a bit numb, for me
to forget.
It's only been thirty minutes.
The dim-witted Mr. Cross,
locked me in here while I
was unloading boxes.
He found it amusing;
since I put hot pepper on
his sandwich once,
not knowing he was allergic.
I guess this was his revenge.
Does he realize though, that
I could freeze to death, in here?
Does anyone realize that I am not 
at my station?
I scream, but no one hears me.
I pound on the door, the walls.
My hands start to hurt.
I think I may have split a
knuckle opened.
I see blood, but it is not dripping.
I dip my hand in a bag of ice,
near the corner, on the right side.
I start feeling it go numb,
and I pull it out to finish my
thought about writing on that door.
I walk over to it, and I feel goose bumps.
Unfortunately, I didn't grab my sweat shirt, 
before I came in here.
Feeling like my arms are going to
fall off, I go to write on the door.
As soon as I start, I hear a voice.
"Is someone in there?"
I yell, "Yes".
The door opens, it's the janitor.
He asks what happened, while 
handing me his sweater.
Then after I finish, he smiles.
I ask him if he found this amusing.
His response was a simple,
"Yes. The door doesn't lock from the inside".