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The nurse told me that there weren’t many survivors. I was one of a few they expected to live after the disaster. I guess I should have felt good about that, but I didn’t.

I was trapped in a dingy hospital room. The windows were dirty, but the sun still managed to shine through and warm my room. The room was equipped with a broken CRT TV—I didn’t think those still existed. The Japanese nurse left me with a few novels in English, but never did she leave a newspaper or magazine. Needless to say, I didn’t have access to the Internet. I felt like I was in a prison—like I was being punished for surviving.

“Many reporters want to talk to you.” My nurse said through a heavy accent. “We have police outside your door. To protect you.”

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