Watching Doors

I’ve developed a new habit: I count the exits everywhere I go. I do it in the ward, in the supermarket, and even in my own house. It isn’t because I have a plan to run—there’s nowhere left to go, after all—it’s because I want to know if running is even a physical possibility. I want to know if the world is still open, or if I’m just moving between smaller and smaller boxes. It’s a way of testing the walls without actually touching them. So far, the exits are still there, but they feel like suggestions rather than escape routes. I’m just a rat in a maze, counting the turns and waiting for the end.