Inmates of limbo live in constant sight of each other and await formal disposition of their bodies, which are contained in a concrete cell of bare walls and bolted metal. The men have little control of what they see and hear.
Consciousness suffers from insult, and the men in the cell have been deeply insulted. They endure relentless and repetitive thoughts of what was, what could have been, and what will be; and they emerge from thought into the harshness of what is.
Each man relinquishes an aspect of himself, lest his being wither in the cell – a belief, a story, a hope; a tie to another soul; some part of what is meaningful and important in his life.
No other way out of the cell.