The Diner

Hell

They say there are 9 circles of hell. I believe that to be false. There is one more and that is infinity. A loop. Insanity. I tried over and over again to escape the diner. but every single time I rounded the street corner to where my home should be, it was the diner. I realized I had no hope. And soon the friendly atmosphere of it died. The walls became cracked and molded. The floor tiles were cracked and broken, along with the stools at the diner counter: tipped over and broken. The booth I usually sat at became molded and old plates from the endless days and nights I spent here were covered in maggots. the seat was ripped and moldy but it was the only thing closest to a bed. The table's color faded with time and the paint chipped. Moss and weeds began to grow all over the place. It was now abandoned. Not even Betty or the cook was around. They withered away with the building. the windows were fogged and covered with dust. the food in the kitchen was molded and covered with maggots and flies.

I lost count of how many days it had been. how many nights. There seems to be at least 238 tallies scratched into the walls and tables, last I counted. I've given up on leaving this place. it felt like I was becoming one with the building. My skin rotting into the booth seat's ripped leather. my bones were weak. My hair shriveled and I became a corpse, fusing with the building until my body became nothing. After I had passed because of starvation and poor hygiene, the maggots and flies moved from the expired food to my withered body. There was nothing left of me. Maybe some torn pieces of fabric left by my clothes and bodily fluids that leaked from my depressing corpse but that was it.