I begin to plan. I hum to myself, then begin to sing. It helps me think.

“If only, if only, the woodpecker sighed…” Before I could finish the song, the doctor walked in. I rolled my eyes and looked at him.

“What do you want?” I asked him. It was the same doctor that worked on my feet. I did not want to be nice to him.

“Is your neck any better?”

“A bit, yes, why?”

“Just curious.” He walked out, leaving me with an uneasy feeling in my already pained gut. I turned over and stared at the creepily clean white walls, steadily thinking. Then I find the song in my head.

‘Cause we all just wanna be big rockstars, and live in hilltop houses driving fifteen cars…