Someone yanks at my neck from behind, making me look at some man with greasy hair. Shout ensues followed by crying. Suddenly my face is pressed hard against the table. The view is better but things get awfully quiet. Suddenly and without warning I am flung to the far side of the room. I hit the wall with tremendous force, breaking my nose. I am left on the floor until the next day…to do it all over again. My name is cliché and I am an interrogation room lamp.
October 23, 2009