Everyone moves in uniform. Everyone dresses the same, acts the same, talks the same, moves the same.

They all wake up at 6, are ready to leave home at 6:45, are walking to work in a singular line at 6:50, are at work at 7:20.

You walk down the deserted street. Everyone is on the sidewalk. There are no more cars, or driveways for that matter. The people turn their heads at the same time, give you the same look, then resume facing forward, always when you are directly opposite of them. You stop staring and walk faster.

You try to leave, but all the houses look the same, with the same people, and the same family, and the same streets. You begin to run. You see a person turn the corner as you turn. You run faster. Maybe they know whats going on. You turn the corner just as they do. You try to shout, but it just echoes endlessly. You look back to see another person who looks just like you. You realize you were chasing yourself.

You walk up to one of the houses and knock on the door. A woman opens it, a mother with a child resting on her hip. "Honey, whats wrong?" She asks. Other people come out of their homes. All mothers with children resting on their hips, all looking at you. "Honey, whats wrong?" They all say one by one. Ghosts of themselves copy their words down the street.

You grab a tree limb and start to climb. You make it to the top. The trees are perfect for climbing. You look around the houses. Endless copies in endless directions. You wonder if you'll ever get out. You realize you don't remember how you got here.

Before you know it the people are walking back home. They won't look at you this time. You try to tap one on the shoulder. They don't respond. You try the next, and the next, and the next. Nothing.

You come across a difference. You could swear there was a painting in the window of that house. You run to the door. The house is full of paintings. The others door open respectively.  "Honey, whats wrong?" The mothers ask. A husband accompanies them now. The house in front of you doesn't move. The door stays firmly closed.  You feel the hope in you die.

You walk endlessly. There are no exits. Just endless distances. You want to cry, but the emotions won't come.

You wake up in a bed, having no idea how you got there. You don't remember stopping to sleep. You rush to the window. The normal street sits there. No, not normal. Abnormally normal. The people start to walk to work. The door behind you opens. You turn to see a masked man.

You wake up again in the bed. You slowly walk to the window. It's before the people have gone to work. You walk to the closet. Your grey dresses sit before you. No, not yours. These are someone else's. This is not your home. You run to the door. The masked man opens it before you get there.

You wake up in bed. You slowly stand. Your feet brush against the familiar carpet. Not familiar. You have to leave. You look at the window. One way out. The door opens. You don't turn. You run to the window. One way out. You try to climb, but you feel a hand on your neck.

You wake up in bed. You swing your feet off the bed. One way out, you remember, but why. You look at the window. You lunge at the window and fling the glass open. The door swings open behind you. You swing a leg out, then two.You take a breath. You push off. A hand brushed against your shoulder.

You wake up in bed. No way out. You think. You stand, make your bed, and change into your dress. You aren't supposed to have favorites, but this one is your favorite. You walk out the door, careful to ignore the masked men that still watch you. You walk downstairs and make breakfast. You look at the Windex resting on the counter. Blue gleaming freedom. The masked man appears behind it.

You wake up in bed. You stand, make your bed, and change into your grey dress. You walk out the door. The word masked man pops into your head. You ignore it. You make breakfast, bid your husband goodbye, and watch your child.

You always wake up. You always stand, make your bed, and change into your grey dress. You always walk out the door. You always make breakfast, bid your husband goodbye, and watch your child. Sometimes a lost child appears in the street. "Honey, whats wrong?" You ask, child resting on your hip. You close the door. They will join you soon. You don't even have to alert the authorities. What a perfect society.