Thousand: Six Hundred Sixty-Six

tell, but she tests every hint of bump or suggestion of depression. A sliding door, a door that swivels on an axis, a door that rises. A door that requires an incantation? She blinks, catches herself nodding. She glances back over at the tables. If the one with the drinks is pointing to twelve o’clock, she’s checked through to four? Almost back to where she entered the room. Well, now that light is handy she can run back the way she came, if it comes to that. Carrying a bottle of soda, even. She will easily spot that exit she