Grasshopper blinked. The blindingly white lights glared down, rebounding off the tiles. He seemed to be in a completely white hallway, like an hospital if he had been back at home.

He was nearly blinded. White, white, white. The hallway looked endless, but he couldn’t tell if it was mirrors or not. He sighed. Would this ever end? Once he escaped one room, he would just end up in another.

Grasshopper stumbled around, bumping against walls and tripping in a daze. Weird noises echoed all around him, settling in his eardrums and burrowing into his pores, weighing him down until he could walk no longer.

He fell, banging his head against the white floor. White. He groaned. His dark eyes, seeming almost black against the white, opened. White, of course. But…a small crack. He sat up, sliding his fingers under the crease. He got a hold and pulled.

It opened. He was out.