Grey sat on the hard cot and stared at the solitary window. Small discolored glass, placed a bit crooked above the door, allowed light in but nothing could be seen of the other side. She had tried when they had first locked her in using a wobbly metal chair as a perch. She stood on the tips of her toes and came close to falling off. They were talking about her. People always did, discussing what they would do to her for her crime, whatever it might be this time. Ten feet past the customs area and they grabbed her, and whisked her away to be locked in this room without an explanation why.