You walk through the door and into a dim room. It smells like hay here, and there’s hay at your feet. You take a few more steps in and realize you’re at the back of a stable, in a stall, alone. You exit the stall and walk down the hall of stalled horses.
A few that are awake whicker at you. You reach out to pet one’s velvety nose, and wonder what they make of you in this mask. Soft lips nibble at your fingers, hoping you’re holding back a treat. You grin and then you walk on down the row.
There’s a final low lit stall at the end with one wall open and a n***d man standing inside of it. You can tell from here that his mask matches yours, braids of black horse hair trace down his back. He doesn’t hear you as you dip through the struts of the gate to come inside – he’s watching what’s going
