Day 3:

This morning the jarred person woke up in a frantic, hysterical state of panic, seemingly upset at the initial absence of the free person, who reappeared shortly. After having what appeared to be a highly undesired bowel movement in the makeshift toilet side of the jar, the poor thing promptly broke down and began to bawl.

 

The episode inside the jar was startling. It was a constant alternation between disoriented blubbering, repetition of the phrase “I want my mom,” and lamenting up at the wire lid “why, God, why!” The free person was obviously shaken by the constant outbursts and emotional upheaval of its jarred companion, and gently pressed itself against the glass wall to offer words of comfort like “there, there” “sh sh, it’s okay,” and “I understand, I know…” Though the words did little to quiet the distraught subject, it was obviously soothed by the gesture and allowed itself to be held and cuddled through the glass jar.

 

The relentless crying and berserk behavior devoured the day, leaving the people exhausted, spirits undeniably shaken. Yet, I find it most fascinating that despite their apparent sorrow, their proximity to one another greatly increased. The darkness found them kissing and spooning through the glass as they drifted into sleep, closer together, but no closer to escape.

Select a brutal day: