Fred picked a door and began to open it. He thought he could outsmart whatever trick this was by opening it with just the smallest crack to peek inside. He didn’t anticipate the overwhelming sense of a void that came through the crack. There was no escaping it.
He wasn’t Fred anymore. He wasn’t even the woman he had been in the hallway. He was Sheyu now. Sheyu was elegant and graceful; she was perhaps one of the best dancers in the world. Yet she refused to dance because she did not enjoy dancing. Food was brought though the door each day, but she did not ever eat it. She did not care to eat it; she grew thinner but never starved. The door was never locked behind her, but she could not bring herself to go back around and enter the hallway. She did not even turn around to look, staring instead at the blank wall in front of her. There was nothing there to see, there was nothing she imagined there, and there was nothing she cared to imagine. Time passed, but she never aged. The room slowly became smaller as the eons passed. She did not wish to leave, but she did not care if she stayed either. And as the room grew smaller, she was pushed back out into the hallway.
The voice instructed her to pick another door. Sheyu had no desire to pick another door, but also considered it pointless to refuse. As she put her hand on the handle of one door, Sheyu felt a sense of Fred (the man she once was) before she quickly moved to open a different door instead.
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