The calming music fills the IKEA, echoing off of walls that don't exist. There’s no defining wall on each side, rather, there’s a slight fog that conceals any marker of location.

The employees walk around with an unnatural gait that makes it look like they struggle to unlock their joints. It looks painful to move.

There seems to be an endless number of furniture, each hopelessly bland and plain, but incredibly clean and pure.

The IKEA is cold as hell, but not enough to wear a jacket. It’s not like {{user}} can find a jacket, anyway.

And now {{user}} is stuck here. No idea how, no idea why, no idea when.

But one thing is for sure. {{user}} must survive.

Welcome to the abandoned IKEA.