In a room with little air left you wonder how you will survive. Time has lost all meaning, although you found very little use for it in the first place. Your body has withered since you were put in here and have had nothing to eat in what must be years. That can't be right, but somehow you know that it is. Just like you know that the door in front of you is unlocked but that it would be a very bad idea to go outside.

You're very tired of this. For the first year you kept track of what you felt like were the days by scratching a short line into the stars and moons wallpaper but that had long lost its appeal. It is from those scratches that your hope is reborn. A small rip opened sometime while you were asleep, stemming from one of your scratchings. And you can see light through it. A small breeze blows through and into your small universe, swelling your lungs. This might be your only chance. But is it a trick? Would it be more realistic to face your irrational fears and test the door?

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