R arrived at her flat. The lock was stiff, she wriggled the key. She put her shoulder to the door to wedge it open. She sat on her kitchen chair, which was left by a previous tenant. She only had the one chair, and that a second-hand one, because her only friend had been sectioned for an infringement of a minor rule of not being in her night-wear for ten o’clock medications. The restrictions were explained as necessary for the greater good of the whole. Which whole was that?, R wondered. She had lost a friend on the outside.
She had no need for more chairs as she didn’t have visitors, apart from the old lady who lived next door, oh and of course her cat. She always thought of it. It was her main reason for living, that is if she really wanted to. She thought of how most of the staff at the hospital behaved.

“Bollocks; just control freaks,” R decided.

She went back though. She had no choice.

As she thought, she realised she had no food or drink in at home, but more importantly, she had not enough food for her cat. Her purse was in the bottom of her hand bag, covered in tobacco from discarded stubs which she used to save for before breakfast. She found a five pound note, a little torn, but still viable. She remembered she would need a drink for herself, maybe a small bottle of vodka. She bought milk, a can for the cat, a pastry and the vodka with the loose change. She went to collect her cat from the old lady who lived next door.

She rang the bell. After five minutes the door opened a little; the chain still kept her half hidden, with the door half shut. The cat had come with the old lady, but it bolted when R bent down to stroke it. R didn’t know where it had gone, but it was certainly not pleased to see her. She was almost angry with the old woman for stealing its affections. It had happened before with her other neighbour.

The woman spoke.