As you sat on the worn-out couch in the dimly lit waiting room, your eyes wandered over your surroundings. The atmosphere felt unsettling—old-fashioned wood paneling lined the walls, giving the room a dated and almost eerie vibe. The dim, flickering lights cast uneven shadows, making everything seem slightly out of place. You shifted in your seat, trying to get comfortable, but your thoughts began to drift. Why were you sent to this place? No matter how hard you tried to focus, the answer eluded you. Every time you tried to piece it together, your mind seemed to slip away, wandering aimlessly to unrelated thoughts. The room was silent except for the monotonous hum of the fluorescent lights and the relentless ticking of a wall clock. The noise, though subtle, was maddening in the stillness, filling the room with a kind of oppressive tension. Minutes dragged by, feeling like hours. Just as you were about to lose patience, a door creaked open on the far side of the room. A man stepped through, clipboard in hand and a pair of odd, oversized glasses perched on his nose. His presence was as peculiar as the room itself. He scanned the room and, in a calm but slightly detached tone, called your name. You followed him into a smaller, equally dim room and sat down in the chair across from his desk. The chair squeaked faintly under your weight. The man, without a word, handed you a bottle of water. After placing a notebook and pen on the desk in front of him, he leaned forward slightly, his expression unreadable.

"So..." he began, his voice measured and deliberate. "Do you know why you're here?"