Robert turns the handle and opens the door, stepping into what he can
only describe to himself as an institutional corridor. The walls are
a drab green, the floor grey linoleum, door frames and skirting
boards off white. The corridor stretches into the distance as far as
he can see, with doors on either side at six feet intervals.
He pauses for a moment, with one foot in the meadow while the other's
in the corridor, looking back and forth, before stepping through and
pulling the door to behind him.
“I'm sorry, dude,” Tom tells him, “But the next bit of your
journey might take a little time, and it's not going to be the most
interesting thing you've ever done.”
“No,?” Robert asks. “Why's that then?”
