Validation

Level 4 looks exactly like Level 3.

The concrete is sweating a cold, gray salt

and the air smells like exhaust and old grief.

I’ve walked past Pillar B-12 three times now,

my keys clicking in my shaking hand.

The elevator doors opened and spilled out

the smell of floor wax and sterilized fear.

I don't remember if I’m in the blue zone

or the green zone.

Down in a puddle of rainbow oil,

a surgical mask is floating face-down.

The strings are tangled like a tripped-up kite.

I’m not sure I want to find the car

if it just means driving back to that empty bed.