I know that smell . . . I know that sound . . . and this feeling in the air . . . I know that too.
Everything here is so familiar . . . but it feels so wrong . . .
What happened here?
"Lithuania, are you in here?"
This smell . . . so irony. So metallic. It floods up my nose, into my lungs and makes me want to vomit. I've smelt it before. So many times.
Part of my mind says "too many times." . . . Another part growls, "not enough."
But why is it here now? I didn't punish anyone today. Those two did an acceptable job in their work, and I haven't seen him all day.
. . . Where did he go? Where was he all day?
Was he in here . . . surrounded by this "awful, horrible" - no, "wonderful, amazing" - smell?
"Lithuania? I kept calling for you but you never came. So I decided to see what was keeping you. You know as well as anyone I don't like to be ignored."
Why is it so dark? And that sound . . .
". . . I know you're in here Lithuania. Why aren't you answering me? . . . Lithuania