“Perfect. It’s…It’s all so perfect, so clean. So fancy. You did this. You knew it would get under my skin. You know it would.” Ray was talking at an abnormal speed, glancing at the lone stain on the wall to keep his sanity. “Well, you know what? It’s not…..” he paused. The stain had caught his eye. Something about it. The way it was shaped.
Look at that thing. Look at it. It’s so… ugly… it’s so dirty. It’s so captivating. Captivating. Captive. Capture. Capture. That is why I’m here, isn’t it? They thing I did something, somewhere, to someone. I didn’t. I know I’m innocent. And so do they. The bastards. They’re trying to get me to confess to a crime never committed.

His eyes had never left the stain. His mouth was still caught mid-sentence.
He was transfixed. The stain was shaped intentionally. He knew that.
it was too perfect to NOT mean something.

Suddenly, he was standing, his chair knocked over.
“No! No. No no no no no no.” He was pointing at the stain.