like lines indicating one-point perspective in a school art project, broken only by the occasional corridor.
She picked a corridor at random and set off. At the next turn, she took a left and became a little lost.
She searched for a way out, but there was no sign of an exit.
She attempted to retrace her steps towards the entrance, but it was impossible.
Eventually she had to conclude she wasn’t going to find the exit.
‘This is abnormal,’ she said to herself, to find comfort in the sound of her own voice.
‘Definitely abnormal.’ Nora stopped and stepped closer to some of the books.
There were no titles or author names adorning the spines.
Aside from the difference of shade, the only other variation was size: the books were of similar height but varied in width.
Some had spines two inches wide, others significantly less. One or two weren’t much more than pamphlets.
She reached to pull out one of the books, choosing a medium-sized one in a slightly drab olive colour.
It looked a bit dusty and worn. Before she had pulled it clean from the shelf, she heard a voice behind her and she jumped back.
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