We walked through the materializing doorway, into the building; its white walls and smooth marble floors were surprising and yet not surprising at the same time. It had the feeling of being a very fancy yet staid interior, making me feel like I was one black in a sea of white.
“If you, I guess, represent the white rather than the black, why have me wear this?” I asked curiously.
“It is really just for...well, it’s really what we make prisoners or hostages wear, since they would be black. Plus, it looks better on you.” His voice was devoid of anything as he stared on ahead, but I knew there was something more hiding behind the curve of his lips. Somehow, his smile was reassuring, and didn’t quite make me feel like a prisoner.
His light-looking white shoes silently tapped against the flawless floors. My bare feet were sticky with sweat, despite the cool air, and stuck to the floor, making weirdly gross noises. He kept his eyes staring restlessly ahead, and I tried to keep my eyes from constantly gazing at him.
The hall was very long, much longer than it seemed from the outside, as if to say, you don’t know why you’re here. Let’s make it seem even more tense and oblivious for you. I didn’t appreciate it.
 Imagine a slimy octopus trying to walk on a marble floor.