That many people, and that place – it just wasn’t for you. The elevator’s doors close in front of you, taking you away. It seems slower now that you’re retreating, or maybe that’s just your imagination’s hope. You lean against one wood paneled wall, stroking your fingers down the robe’s wide lapel, your other hand in a pocket, key heavy in your hand.
Your real life’s never seemed further away than in this moment, and you can’t begin to imagine going back to it again. A part of your brain is scheming – how can you manage to stay here? Bribery? Tricks?
The elevator door opens, revealing a short hall, all done in white and black. Statues of marble and onyx rest on pedestals of the same, atop black and white checker-style tiles. A white ceiling hangs over walls paneled in black, and to your
