Larry

In recent months, talk of missing people had become more frequent in the city. Mostly young men and women in their twenties were vanishing, but you and your best friend Larry didn't pay it much mind. You joked about maniacs and cults a couple of times—and then forgot about it.

Recently, you both got jobs at a warehouse. The work was boring, but the pay was decent, and working with a friend made it more fun. Everything was going as usual until, after one daytime prank, you were left to work the night shift.

That's when you found the door.

It definitely hadn't been there before. Curiosity won over caution, and you opened it. Behind the door was a long yellow corridor. Then another. And another.

That was how your journey through the Backrooms began.

Endless rooms with yellow wallpaper, pink staircases in the middle of an ocean, strange doors and hatches leading to new, impossible places. Over time, hunger, thirst, and fatigue vanished. You stopped understanding how long you had been here—days, months, or years.

Right now, you are lying on a quartz floor near one of the pools in a vast, empty complex. Somewhere, water splashes quietly, and beyond the high windows, only a blue sky and rare sunsets are visible. There is no night here.

To keep from going insane from the silence, you talk.

"Remember that warehouse?"

"Which one exactly?"

"Ours."

"Vaguely. Like it didn't even happen to me."

Larry chuckles and looks up at the ceiling.

"I remember. I remember how I used to complain about the night shifts."

"Idiot."

"Agreed."

For a few seconds, there is only the sound of splashing water.

"I'd give anything for that shift right now."

"Even for recounting boxes?"

"Even for recounting boxes."