The fluorescent lights of the third-floor corridor buzzed with their usual mind-numbing drone as Lisa made her way toward the exit. She offered a few tired nods and muttered polite "hi"s to the coworkers she passed, her mind already halfway out the door.

"Lisa! Wait up!"

She turned to see Sarah jogging to catch up with her, a stack of folders clutched to her chest. They fell into step together, heading toward the bank of elevators at the end of the hall.

"Don't forget to call me when you get home," Sarah reminded her, catching her breath. "And remember, we have plans tomorrow. Don't you dare flake on me."

"I won't, I promise," Lisa smiled, pulling her smartphone from her pocket and flashing the screen as she reached out to press the down arrow. "See? Battery is fully charged. I’ll text you the second I walk through my door."

"Good. Drive safe," Sarah said as the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime.

Lisa stepped inside, turning around to wave as the heavy metal doors slid shut, cutting off the sounds of the office. She was completely alone. Her shoulders dropped, the fake workplace smile fading into a heavy sigh. As she reached into her bag to grab her car keys, she couldn't help but mutter to herself, "Another boring-ass day."

She stared down at the key ring, her mind drifting to her evening routine. Time to go home, feed Meika, and sleep.

Midway through the descent, the overhead lights gave a violent, sharp flicker. The elevator shuddered for a fraction of a second, a strange sensation of weightlessness washing over Lisa’s stomach, before the ride smoothed out again. She didn't think much of it—the building's maintenance had always been sketchy.

Ding.

The doors parted. Lisa stepped forward, expecting the dim, concrete layout of the underground parking lot. Instead, her boots hit damp, worn-out carpet.

She froze.

Before her stretched an impossible labyrinth of empty rooms. The walls were covered in a sickly, monochromatic shade of faded yellow wallpaper. The air was thick, smelling heavily of stagnant water and old dust. Above her, a grid of industrial fluorescent panels hummed with a deafening, relentless vibration.

Confused, a nervous laugh escaped her throat. "What the hell...?"

She spun around and darted back into the elevator, frantically jabbing the button for the third floor. Then the second. Then the lobby. The buttons didn't even light up. The panel was completely dead.

"Shit," she breathed, her pulse beginning to race. "I pressed the parking lot button. Where the hell am I?"

Panick surged through her chest like ice water. She grabbed her cellphone, her thumb shaking as she swiped it open to call Sarah or 911—anything. But the screen was glitching. The reception bars were completely gone, replaced by a jagged, static distortion that warped the digital clock on her home screen. The numbers bled into illegible pixels.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Screaming into the empty space, she gripped her hair, her breathing turning into shallow, ragged gasps. The silence of the yellow rooms seemed to swallow her voice whole, leaving only that maddening hum.

Forcing her legs to move, she gathered what little composure she had left and began to walk. The deeper she went, the more reality seemed to fracture. She passed a section where office desks and chairs hovered two feet off the ground, completely defying gravity. A few yards later, classical stone statues were inexplicably buried waist-deep directly into the carpeted floor, as if they had clipped into the building's foundation.

Nervously checking her phone every few steps, she prayed for a single bar of signal. Nothing.

Up ahead, a doorway opened into a larger room that looked marginally more like a functioning office. Inside, a lone desk phone sat under the buzzing lights, its little red indicator light blinking. Hope flared in her chest. Lisa ran into the room, completely ignoring the bizarre, distorted-faced statues standing like sentinels in the corners.

She slammed the receiver to her ear and began aggressively punching in numbers.

Silence. No dial tone. Not even static.

Frustration and terror boiled over. With a primal cry of rage, Lisa ripped the phone cord straight out of the wall. She slammed the plastic device against the desk, threw it to the floor, and stomped on it until the casing shattered into pieces, swearing loudly into the empty room.

Breathing heavily, she began pacing, desperately rummaging through the nearby filing cabinets and a rusted breakroom fridge. Empty. Every single drawer was completely bare.

Exhaustion finally overtook her panic. Her legs gave out, and she slid down the side of a heavy wooden desk, pulling her knees tight against her chest. Hidden in the cramped shadow beneath the desk, she buried her face in her hands, trying to force her brain to think of a logical explanation.

She was so focused on her own frantic thoughts that she didn't hear the faint, wet crunch behind her.

In the corner of the room, the stone head of the distorted statue slowly, smoothly unzipped down the middle. Its face opened up like a hollow shell, and the neck began to turn, rotating pixel by pixel toward the desk where Lisa sat hiding.