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[Narrator] At home, Jane responded to the news of my promotion with caution.
[Jane] "Does this mean I'm going to see less of you?"
[Narrator] "Look, I need to work hard to get ahead. It won't always be this way."
[Jane] "I barely see you as it is. You come in at night, eat, shower, and go to bed."
[Narrator] "Okay, so I'm running short of time here and there."
[Jane] "You're not making time! That's the point."
[Narrator] "I promise it won't be like that, Jane. I'll make time!"

I leaned forward and slid my hand across the table. Almost reluctantly, she placed hers in mind. I felt nothing as her fingertips ran across my palm. It was almost as if she was touching someone else's hand. I realized it was the hand I had placed inside the cage on Sublevel 19.

I snatched my hand back from Jane and touched my fingers with the other hand. The machine hand was cold, like the temperature of a metal bench top, or the bonnet of a car after it had been sitting in the cool of a garage.

[Jane] "What's wrong?"

[Narrator] I forced a smile and hid my hand under the table.
"Nothing."


Lyrics submitted by Octavarium64

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