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writing.txt
19 lines (12 loc) · 1.15 KB
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writing.txt
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The tools are away, the power is off, everything is in its place. Everything in the factory that is, despite your dilligence you've missed one important item. Your keys are missing.
Your coworkers are notorious for leaving their stuff around the factory, they'll surely appreciate you picking up after them.
You've never been in the factory this late before, and you can't shake the feeling that you're no longer in a familiar place.
Things always look different in the dark.
You know in your mind where you are, you've been in this room almost every day for the past four years, but your eyes have no memory of this alien and hostile place.
Far from returning familiarity to the surroundings, the harsh fluorescent lights only accent the darkness with strange and harrowing angles.
Walkways and corridors that were once so easily traversed are transformed into labyrinthine passages of shifting surfaces.
What demon of the dark has run rampant here, twisting and tormenting the scenery.
You will have much to tell your boss in the morning.
Finally you're here, at your office.
This is where you spend your days climbing inch by inch up the ladder.
Your keys must be close.