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THIS WAY
Crawling, you pass over four shallow cracks. The sudden feeling of falling.
You look up. The ceiling has lifted free. A thick line of sunlight rounds the circumference of this place, bold, painfully red. You avert your eyes. And out there, briefly illuminated, you see conduits of metal raised high; grey wall; a platform; a shape walking, then pausing. Branches of green held tall.
The ceiling collapses silently. The circle of light disappears. Yet much of the light remains, now trapped in this place, hovering low to the ground. You feel hot and begin to sweat. You can see the pallor of your own skin.
You reach out, grasping the light, the air, experiencing its heaviness and tangibility. Here, just around you, the light is more measured. A little further and it becomes underexposed, shaded somehow.
Where do you go?
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