A rat runs off with the bit of sausage I have just ripped off with my teeth and thrown on the ground next to the electrical generator, which is humming, and grumbling disagreeably with my feeding of the rats. He said he’d meet me here, but there six other people on the platform, and none of them look like him.
I am with the rats, and the rats are watching me, and I am watching them. They are scurrying around in the long grass surrounded by the spiked fence, in the long grass there are bottles, and empty crisp packets, and other rubbish.
On the fence there is a yellow sign. Danger. Death. High voltage. The generator is mumbling.
The rats are safe in their fenced off area.
I want to be in there with them. I want to be in there with the rats.
If he doesn’t come soon, I will join them, I will join the rats, I will be in there with them.