[ the landscape is a little warped, courtesy of time and distance from childish memories, but the room's features are distinctive enough. it's definitely a playland, for someone caught somewhere between youth and adulthood. the jungle gym becomes a landmark, and he scales it effortlessly, cupping his hands over his eyes - trying to see into the distance, past the dark shadows and warehouse-like scale of the room. ]

Could be worse.

[ accepting, then? ]

I walked. [ avoiding the Real Question: ] I woke up in what felt like the fuckin' morgue, and walked outta' there. Been looking for a way out since.