“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, I don’t know. I, uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.” He tries to think of a unit of time. Years? Months? Minutes? Unable to decide, he tries to think of a number. Nine is a good one, or forty-one. Seventy? He thinks back to when Carlos brought him here. There was probably a date assigned to that point in time, but he can’t recall it. When he looks at calendars and clocks he can’t grasp their purpose, his grip too slippery to take hold.
“A while,” is what he settles on. That’s enough time for various things to have happened, right? “Like, more than ‘a little while,’ but definitely not ‘a long time.’ Probably. I bet Carlos would know.”