I lay awake on top of my sheets, not able to sleep, trying to remember all the information Fletcher had dumped onto me, but not focusing on any of it, because my mind keeps wondering to Rey. The aching in me intensifies when the image of her dances in my mind, and I convince myself that I am in so much pain because I can't believe the way I violated her, but I have an unwelcome sense that it is more than that.
There are moments during the night as I stare at the dark ceiling that I almost believe she is here with me; my skin tingles, the way it only does with her.
I arrive upon the verge of sleep, yet I'm still partly awake and the feeling becomes so strong that I jolt up. I almost feel her on top of me her body ghosting mine I have to lean over and turn on the bedside lamp. I sigh – I don't know if it one of relief or one of disappointment – when I see that I am alone. I start to have a gnawing feeling inside, like I am pushing something down again, but I am unable to contemplate it before I slip into a strange slumber.

I wake up multiples times during the evening and when morning arrives I feel more exhausted than I previously was.
I drag myself out of bed and clean myself up. I hear a quick knock on the wooden door, I pull it open, Fletcher stands with his trolley in front of him.
"Good morning, here is your breakfast," he passes me a tray with an assortment of fruits and some toasted bread.

"Thank you," I take the unexpectedly heavy tray from his grasp.

"I will see you again tonight, what time should you be in your room tonight?" He asks looking around, he is always in a rush, yet seems to have the time to quiz my knowledge from last night. He rearranges the trays so they have precise spaces between them,

"Around 7:30?" My voice raising as I am unsure if I am completely correct.

Fletcher nods in quick succession and shrugs, "Close: 7:45, I will see you tonight," He calls, bowing his head slightly before scurrying to the next rooms and offering them their trays.

I recognise some of the fruit, and eat most of it, saving a few round fruit for snacks, knowing they keep for a long time.
I finish my meal before I go in search for the tailor Fletcher had told me about the night before.

I walk down the maze of halls and pass one alien; I stop him awkwardly and ask for directions, he seems to understand me however doesn't verbally communicate in return. Instead, he points one of his seven fingers down the corridor then points up, he gestures the number two then turns and sluggishly slides in the opposite direction from me.
I follow his directions and reach an elevator. I assume the alien meant for me to go up. I ascend past the ground level and the doors click open with a ding as I reach the first floor. There are multiple offices and administration rooms; I hear buzzing of communicators and voices of different conversations merging into one. I let out a heavy sigh, I need to try and make myself belong here.
I find myself longing for the beach I had first escaped to, and the job in the grocery store, with the kind man who did not have many strict rules.

I eventually find the room I need, I knock and my heart sinks at the sight of the droid that is revealed. It is an old model First Order Livoid; they measured the Stormtroopers for their uniform. It is not affected by me and gestures with its extremely small digits to the back room concealed by a curtain, where I am then directed to stand on a small stool and remove everything but my undergarments. I feel exposed; my scar on display but the tailor's droid does not care for it and orders me to raise my arms.
I shut my eyes as it extends a numbered tape from my shoulder to my wrist; recording the appropriate number. The droid continues to take the measurements, wrapping the tape around the circumference of my bicep, then my wrist. I squeeze my closed eyes tightly and direct my focus onto my breathing. The familiar mechanical beeps shake haunting memories from inside. The harsh pinches of the droids robotic fingers which snip my bare skin and the affirmative ding when a measurement is recoded reminds me of the numerous times I was fitted with a new uniform as I grew older in the First Order. The uncomfortable feeling of the droid measuring my upper thighs makes me squirm slightly, and I wonder how it would feel if it was Rey's warm, small hands instead. I instinctively relax at the thought. Once the droid has completed taking my sizes it shuffles to the back of the room and is replaced a short time later with an old lady carrying a uniform, it is a dark red colour with blue detailing around the collar and sleeves. The lady's skin sags and her eyes are dull, yet age has not shrunk her because she would stand to my exact height if I was not on the stool. I introduce myself and receive no response; I am unsure if she is mute or if she does not like to speak because she remains silent the entire time I am in her presence. I look at her hands as she begins to dress me, her fingers have toughened callouses upon callouses, I bet a needle would bend in contact with her skin rather than prick her, I don't know why I am so fascinated but I can't look away from her hands. Often I have to turn and tilt my head to watch her work on me. Her knuckles protrude further than they should and her nails are long and coated in a red polish to match the uniform.
She taps my shoulder before leaving me alone to look in the mirror. The uniform is tight and I fear if I was to quickly bend the seams would tear, so I remain still and wait for her to return.
When she lady returns she passes me a piece of orange paper with a time and date and I assume that is when I will return to pick up my hand sewn uniform. She taps my shoulder once again in farewell before turning from me; I thank her and step down from the stool and leave the room.

I go to the front desk and ask the robot if there is a job for me to complete.

"Are you a trainee, sir?" It asks and I nod.

"Rooms 30-50 on level 23 are unoccupied and require room servicing, N31M could use assistance."

"Thank you," I remember the tour Fletcher had taken me on last night and take a cleaning trolley from inside the storage chamber rolling it to the elevator and ascending.

I see the droid exiting room 35. I introduce myself and he leads me into the next room telling me to clean the windows; pointing to the right chemicals and products I need and what order to use them in.
That is my task for each room. It does not take long for the droid to complete his jobs so quickly that it proceeds to the next room ahead of me, leaving me alone. I thoroughly wash each window occasionally admiring the city view which changes slightly from room to room as I rotate around the building. Sometimes I remove stains from the carpet and clean the mirrors in the bathrooms if they need it.

I return to my room by the time the first sun had set. I wash my hands under the faucet in the bathroom, ridding my skin of the chemicals before I take one of the fruits I had spared earlier and devour it. The clock reads 7:55, Fletcher should be arriving soon.
I carefully remove my heavy temporary uniform. I lay the clothes out flat with precision, not wanting to crease them. I place them next to my bag on the table, I'll have to unpack that and put my clothes the small chest of drawers at the back of the room. That will be a job for another time I think to myself.

I grab out some pants, the room a quite chilly; the evening draft from the freezing corridor is drifting into the room. I dig around for a shirt and decide I will wait under the covers of the bed to keep warm when there is a loud knock at my door – it makes me jump slightly – I drop the shirt from my grasp. I glance at the time; Fletcher is running late, it is a few minutes past 8. I am sure he will be very uptight and even more flustered than normal. I dread opening it, I tug my shirt over my head as I open the door, I pull the fabric down and take a small step back, my brow creases in confusion and a disbelieving gasp escapes my parted lips as I see Rey standing in front of me, supporting herself with her staff.