The room held its hand out right towards me and picked me up from my waist and held me right in front of its dark face. I stared back with wide eyes as if I was a third grader and an evil kid just finished telling me the bogyman story, a stupid story you know not to believe but yet again every time you close your eyes for a better tomorrow your mind tries to play a little dirty game so you start hearing things right under your bed. A little game you start playing with yourself “try to sleep before you start seeing the man himself.” A wide eye towards the rooms dark face and I was unlucky because I didn’t fall asleep. I was held up high, high enough I could have seen my life reflecting its own shadow and there I was high enough to say goodbye. The room sucked me in its little brown squared door and within seconds I was on a rusty wooden floor. I looked up and a white wall stared back with laughter. There I was on the floor in a room lying on the floor and as much as I wanted to believe the story was stupid I tricked my mind to believe in it all and nothing turns into fake. I stood up and started to picture the room as an apartment and with magic only a room can form and slowly the room assembled into a home a body like mine can enjoy. I started to imagine the darkness of beauty and with my eye closed the room would listen without my words touching the air, the room would shape its mind into my thoughts. Within time I started to see what the room started to see and I believed in every story and I wasn’t afraid to sleep without racing the track a few laps. I was killed by the room and the room it was.