In the house, in the city, but the upstairs has changed radically, floorboards replaced with cushions and tiles. Some people are preparing for a trip. Michelle is one, another resembles Alex, but through the melted glass his face is obscured. Also, he wears a hat. Michelle is looking for Chris, he is nowhere to be seen. He was around earlier but left, dressed in a long beige overcoat, the stereotypical look of a private dick. I try to assist the search for the unexplained trip, but am prevented from doing so by boxes cluttering the stairway.
In some sort of wasteland, possibly Malton from urbandead but in reality. The buildings and general lay out of the space appears to be a grid system, dark green, crisscrossing and bisecting the land; it resembles a giant board game. The sky is muted orange, and I have a feeling there is something lurking in the increasing shadows that dusk has introduced. Someone who I am with shows me around their flat. From the window I see abandoned car parks, and in the distance lakes and mountains, though this view is partially obscured by smoke rising from refineries that seem to encircle the town. The light is falling away. No-one is on the street when I am taken to the next house. The view from the window is the other house. Each subsequent place I am shown around offers a view of the preceding property. I am caught in a loop of property viewing, with some unknown menace responsible for the trap I find myself in.
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