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You enter an empty space.

A waft of warm air leads you to a spot with a pair of headphones and a button.

You sit on the soft floor, put the headphones on, and silently count to fourteen before pressing the button.

You tilt your head back and look up. It tastes like soap in your mouth. Like roads you have travelled a thousand times.

It is January after all.

As you lay on your back you hesitate for a moment before resting your head on the soft floor.

Accumulations. Sediments break down, carried by water and winds, compressed by time. Eventually.

You roll to your left seven times, hearing your back crack thrice. Something minuscule fractures and releases.

Each turn you feel the headphone cable entwining you.

You can trace the cable now, leading to a small fissure in the floor, further to the left.

You hold your breath and squeeze through.

There lies the hollow shape of a human form, a perfect fit as you lay there prone, arms resting alongside, eyes peering through twin apertures in the floor.

You close your eyes.

The floor softens and you forget everything but one thing.