Bonny John via Kotaku

Incoherent mumblings echo throughout the corridor whose walls you are hugging. You slowly inch down the hall, now dressed by fungus and moss by the passage of time. The greenery sits nicely against the salmon paint, a detail that you can make out only thanks in part to the to the flickering bulbs provided by the ceiling lights. It's a miracle they're still on, you think to yourself, only before you shake your head -as if that'd get you focused on getting an ear up to the danger ahead.

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Incoherent mumblings echo throughout the corridor whose walls you are hugging. You slowly inch down the hall, now dressed by fungus and moss by the passage of time. The greenery sits nicely against the salmon paint, a detail that you can make out only thanks in part to the to the flickering bulbs provided by the ceiling lights. It's a miracle they're still on, you think to yourself, only before you shake your head -as if that'd get you focused on getting an ear up to the danger ahead.

Incoherent mumblings echo throughout the corridor whose walls you are hugging. You slowly inch down the hall, now dressed by fungus and moss by the passage of time. The greenery sits nicely against the salmon paint, a detail that you can make out only thanks in part to the to the flickering bulbs provided by the ceiling lights. It's a miracle they're still on, you think to yourself, only before you shake your head -as if that'd get you focused on getting an ear up to the danger ahead.

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Incoherent mumblings echo throughout the corridor whose walls you are hugging. You slowly inch down the hall, now dressed by fungus and moss by the passage of time. The greenery sits nicely against the salmon paint, a detail that you can make out only thanks in part to the to the flickering bulbs provided by the ceiling lights. It's a miracle they're still on, you think to yourself, only before you shake your head -as if that'd get you focused on getting an ear up to the danger ahead.

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Incoherent mumblings echo throughout the corridor whose walls you are hugging. You slowly inch down the hall, now dressed by fungus and moss by the passage of time. The greenery sits nicely against the salmon paint, a detail that you can make out only thanks in part to the to the flickering bulbs provided by the ceiling lights. It's a miracle they're still on, you think to yourself, only before you shake your head -as if that'd get you focused on getting an ear up to the danger ahead.

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