This is what I've got for today. It's starting to look good and I'm trying to figure out the meaning of this story and what it's about. Details and all that.
The whole room turns on it's side with a rustle and a dull, plastic sound. Everything is a blur again and then the camera is focusing on the two men. The rather disheveled looking man in street clothes has curled up on the floor. He is breathing, but only very slightly.
Fred glanced at his informal companion. He was on his side, still with his knees drawn close to his chest. It would be so much easier to just sleep until they all had to leave. Better not to risk missing it though. The humidity loosened the threads in his suit and he was able to relax a bit. Leaning against the wall, eyes half closed, he felt ready to complete the objective. With any luck, they wouldn't starve during the wait.
It happened almost in stages. I rest my face in my hand and lean my whole body on my elbow to get more comfortable. That is nice for a while, but then my arm went numb. Small, precise, needling pinpricks of sensation envelope my hand. It feels cold and wet. I shift a little and it only gets worse.
I lean forward on both elbows with my head between my legs, resting on my hands. My back doesn't quite bend right to accommodate the pose. I ease myself onto my side and close my eyes. I won't go to sleep. Can't afford to miss it. I'll just lay here and think about movies and stormy nights sitting at my computer.
The man in the suit has almost closed his eyes. He is nestled into his suit and barely moves. Consciousness appears to bubble back up and his eyes snap open. Slowly and with some degree of difficulty, he stands up and stretches. His head and upper torso disappear.
Stiffly, the man in the suit begins walking. He goes out of frame and comes back a few seconds later, suddenly filling the whole screen. He disappears and returns at the opposite side of the room again.
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