The old one sat there drinking his coffee. It should have been a joyous day. He had his housing voucher- that should have been enough to make him at least a little happy.
A man who slept across from him lay there snoring. Booming over the loudspeaker was the disembodied voice announcing the name of some faceless creature to report to another creature. The old one just sat there writing.
Change, the old one had grown used to prison. He had grown used to 2100, but now he had the chance to get an apartment. The old one was scared. He, his shame, his embarrassment, his humiliation was secure at 2100. But out there in the real world, in his own place, everyone around him would know his shame. A stare or a whisper from a neighbor – that would crush him.
– Excerpt from a short story by Frank Goulding