Panopticon

A 100 Word story

I think there’s cockroaches in the kitchen. I’ve seen smears along the floorboards.

I lay in bed, beneath scratchy sheets, thirsty but avoiding the kitchen. If I see bugs scattering from the light; I’ll have to call the landlord and he’s more likely to serve an eviction than an exterminator.

Jackson snores besides me, home late again, too tired to fuck. He never meets my eyes when he says goodnight. His phone dings, once… thrice.

I sigh, rise to get a drink, bypass the kitchen, to slurp straight from the bathroom tap. Who can afford to turn on the lights?

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