As the pictures disappeared he grew more sad. As he grew more sad, he distracted himself with the dance. As he distracted himself with dance he believed a story more. The story that he'd get out one day. If only he danced hard enough.

He danced and danced. Enjoyed the better food that would arrive on those evenings after an especially hard day of dancing. He'd wonder what his wife would think. She'd say he was working so hard. That he should've worked this hard back when they were living together. Then their life would've been better. Instead he had been distracted by stupid things like trying to prove that Marc Love was the blue man. And look where that landed him. Now he was stuck in this room dancing his heart out.

He kept one final picture of his wife. That was all he had. He knew one day a video would arrive and an error message would tell him he didn't have memory for the video... would he want to delete the image to make space. He didn't know what he'd decide by then. He hated thinking about it. The time had yet to arrive so he could punt on deciding for now.