The Fridge

His back began to hurt after a while and the cramped area was beginning to bother him. Mike had sat in there, knees pressed firmly into his chest for nearly half an hour. He desperately wanted to uncross his legs, as there scraping against each other was starting to irritate him; but there simply was not enough space to finish that. He tapped his toes to a beat on the wall before him, though he barely felt any heat generate from that.
“Should have worn some fucking socks.”
Only for a little while could he justify his actions through positive thinking. How sitting inside this refrigerator had supplied him with untold knowledge that may serve him well at a later date. Such as the light bulb: It was certainly turned off at the moment, so he had no worries about running up a ridiculous electric bill thanks to any sort of faulty wiring on the part of the manufacturer. He also had a deep understanding of just how space he was working with. Why it managed to fit the whole of his body with just minimal cramping. Say a week from now, his roommate was to die of unknown causes; and at the very moment there would be a police officer walking door to door for random inspections. He could stuff the body inside the refrigerator and save himself an awkward situation of suspected murder.
Of course, it made no sense that an officer would walk from door to door inspecting houses. That would be an invasion of privacy, and Mike was certain that he was protected from those kinds of situations. And even if the officer was allowed to come in and have a look, the refrigerator is an awful place to stuff a body into. Even if it was not under suspicion, one would like a sandwich and they are not going to find any ham and cheese on the counters.
This all only made sense to him while he was not considering the fact that he was still sitting inside a refrigerator, but it did not last long. Acute darkness and fairly limited space can only be lasted for so long by the undisciplined. Though he opened the fridge a creak to let in some air, suddenly the oxygen was feeling so shallow; and the heat that snuck in and ran its invisible digits down his arm invited escape. Plus, his elbows were starting to make cracking sounds. That always scared him for some reason.
He stuck out one arm and shielded his eyes from unfiltered light with the other. It felt relieving to finally stretch his legs out again. Left foot. Right foot. They both gripped firmly onto the tile. The door was kept open while he sat there and breathed the fresh air. He finally stepped out and turned to stare at his former cell. Was he free from its bondage or had it just released him into a larger prison, he wondered. Of course, he’s no longer confined in its tiny spaces; but he’s also back to the problem he found himself facing in the first place. The fridge is empty.