Even when there is no car chase, siege, megaphone negotiation, or baton-charging involved, getting arrested involves a certain amount of adrenalin. I slept like the dead last night despite the unfamiliar mattress, and was pretty bleary-eyed this morning when they took me out to the showers.
I'm wide awake now, though, and a little surprised I haven't been getting more attention. They must have questions to ask me. I'd be worried about seeing my lawyer - presumably I am to have a lawyer - but frankly I wouldn't have much to discuss with him, as I haven't been charged with an offence. I suppose most crooks in this situation would be fretting about whether their accomplices will stick to the story, or whether their contraband has fallen into the wrong hands, or whether they'll be facing retribution, having cocked up the plan. My family are away, they have no reason to be concerned, and I couldn't give a shit if I don't get out in time to go to work; I've nothing to worry about. A perfect time to become imprisoned. What luck!
I'm getting distracted. I put pen to paper because I've nothing better to do, and my intention was to do some positive, analytical thinking and write down what I thought. Only a single day 'inside' (and already I'm talking like a native - how pretentious can you get) and I'm already giving myself these little projects. I'm playing at being a prisoner. Is that a mistake? Is it going to leave me acquiescent? Should I be fighting every step, refusing my food, outraged at the loss of my liberty? Right now it seems like a value a little too metaphysical to get worked up about. In here I can't exactly chase my dreams, but I guess that means I won't be disappointed. And what sort of weekend did I have in mind anyway? The indulgence of a pizza and a film, since I'm on my own? It's nice to be on one's own, for a bit. That's solitary confinement for you.
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