ᶜᴼᴺᵀᴱᴺᵀ ᵂᴬᴿᴺᴵᴺᴳ — ᴿᴱᶜᴼᴹᴹᴱᴺᴰᴱᴰ ¹⁶⁺ ᵀʰⁱˢ ᶠⁱᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃˡ ᵈⁱᵃʳʸ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿˢ ᵈᵃʳᵏ ʰᵘᵐᵒʳ, ʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ, ᵇᵒᵈʸ ʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈⁱˢᵗᵘʳᵇⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵐᵃᵍᵉʳʸ.
08/09/1980
Dear Diary,
Up here on the fourth floor, Sector B, it's painfully boring.
I complained so much to the men in the yellow suits that, eventually, they brought me a few old issues of Cosmopolitan.
I can't deny that, in my opinion, they could've done better... but for now I'll take it.
I spend all day in bed flipping through magazines I've already read. The good thing is that Jenny arrived four days ago. Somehow we managed to convince the men in yellow to let us stay in the same room. So now we get bored together, the two of us.
Three more people arrived too, all of them guests. And you know what they do? They treat Jenny and I like we're maids.
"Miss, could you get me this?" "Miss, where are the clean towels?" "Miss, what time is dinner?"
How would I know? I'm stuck up here with you!
Sorry, Diary, I don't want to spend the whole time complaining, but being locked up here is starting to drive me crazy. This was supposed to be an amazing summer. Instead: I'm not even tanned, my boss exploded all over me, and I'm bored.
Jenny actually found herself a hobby: watching the people being escorted in and out of the underground floor... the one that's guarded 24/7.
She thinks some of them never come back out. I think that after staring at people for long enough, they all start looking the same and you just get them mixed up.
Oh, they finally told us our radiation levels. Crazy.
Apparently I'm at 75%, according to the banana men.
Which is ridiculous if you think about it. My boss was only at 4%, and she exploded.
I haven't told my mom. She's the one who encouraged me to come work in California, she'd never forgive herself.
And I don't want to make her worry for no reason.
Anyway, I have no idea how, but Jenny somehow brought that radioactive slime into Sector B, the one she sealed inside the container... Oh God... now that I think about it, what if that thing is the reason our contamination levels are so high?
I swear that thing moves around inside the container. Sometimes it's in one corner, then it's in the middle, then it moves again. Jenny says that's not true, though.
Maybe I'm just so bored that I'm making up distractions for myself.
At least we've been laughing a lot together... Thank God she made it here...
Right now she's painting her toenails. Yesterday she yelled so much at one of the banana men that he eventually brought us nail polish.
I've got the radio on quietly because otherwise I can't concentrate while I'm writing, and Sailing by Christopher Cross is playing... Trevor always turned the volume up whenever it came on... I'm gonna tell Jenny to turn it up...
I miss watching that boy smile at me... or hearing him laugh when he lightly punches my shoulder because I get offended over stupid little things and pretend I don't want to talk to him.
Jenny told me he's okay, at least the last time she saw him before she got moved.
If he were here too, at least we'd be complaining together about the tiny food portions they're giving us and about how awful everything tastes.
Honestly, I'm starting to think they're spitting in our food... or trying to poison us.
As soon as I see Trevor, I'll ask him what he thinks about the food.
Talk to you soon.
XOXOXO
Taffy