what day is this?

you scratch out
another line on the concrete
wall
of your cell.
but it's not a cell
it's your work
cubicle and you've
just scratched
the faux carpet
that is stuck to the
temporary wall that
encloses you. it's
a diagonal mark
scratching out
another week of lines.
you bang your coffee
cup against your desk
and yell out,
guard, guard,
but no one comes.
the prisoner next to
you stands up and looks
over.
you okay? he says.
yes. yes. you say,
settling back down.
what day is this.
who am I?