OUTSKIRTS

LOOKING BACK NOW, I'm not sure if we were leaving or driving in. I saw a solid set of lights and knew that it meant that this was happening right now. The sky was dark and grey and we were traveling on a straight line.
"Do you want to watch this or go back to the movie? That way I would have time for a nap." I knew she wanted to get some sleep because she was expecting company this afternoon even though it didn't look very nice out. The movie was fine I said, so she flipped it to a room within a room, the interior brightly lit and bustling with employees all minding their own business for a certain cause, a sort of split-level executive suite, and I knew I was not invited.
A robotic arm reached in through off-screen and ripped my fingernail out just above the kneecap. My skin and tendons began churning and receding and I thought out loud, "how is this ever supposed to heal?" She laughed like I was trying to be funny. The other one climbed my arm. The exposed flesh turned into a manuscript and fell out. She said no. I saw he was going for a bug and I said Get 'im. Then I recognized it, against the now extremely well lit walls, to be a Death's Heads Moth that was focused on me and my attention. The Cinnabites were here, in a form that I found myself having to explain. The flutter of wings followed me into the shadows where I found myself in recollection, pain, and fear, for the thing had almost followed me here.