You collapsed on the floor from the pain and disorientation and got up only when you were able to see the room. Everything was white: the walls, the ceiling, the floor, and the door. The lack of color was blinding, oppressive, and agitating. Soon, the door opened. You slowly, almost lazily, opened your eyes and looked at the newcomer. Hunger stood in a doorway. He tilted his head, studying you, then stepped forward and slammed the door shut behind him. You silently watched him bring a cigarette to his lips and take a drag. In the silence of the room, the click of the lighter sounded so loud that you flinched. Hunger asked:

"Do you like it here?"