Elevators are for the weak. I have these strong bird legs for a reason, and I can get in more steps, you know, despite being able to fly. We don’t talk about that.
I begin walking up the stairs. It’s bland. Very bland. The cold, concrete staircases, surrounded by cold concrete walls, who knew such a place could even exist after visiting the extravagant festivity? Looking up, oh boy, are there a lot more stairs. Where am I trying to even go? How many more floors do I need to walk… Are there even floors???
You continue your path of fitness. Despite there being no exits or any flashy signs among your travels, you see a wooden black door, a golden plaque above it reads “Floor 42”. Wow, there must be a large separation between floors then.. Something about it doesn’t seem right, just the whole vibe surrounding the door just doesn’t feel correct. The ominous sounds bouncing off the concrete walls, the sweat dripping off your face. This door could be the oasis within the desert.
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.