I pushed on, going straight ahead, deviating not for the curvature of the corridor floor. Arriving at the end of the corridor, I turned a corner and spotted a doorway. It didn't take much room to spot, being the only thing in the corridor and all. I opened it, finding the job to be somewhat tiring. The reason became clear - the door was in fact hidden on the other side. A magnificent, classic piece, in fact! A fake bookcase! I shut the bookcase behind me and surveyed my surroundings. Seated, snoring peacefully, knitting angrily or attempting to read through eyes that should have died eons ago, were elderly prisoners. They paid me no attention, so I searched the room. Suddenly, I bumped into the leg of a sleeping grandfather. As sweet and dribbly as he was in slumber, as angry and vengeful he was in consciousness. Rising with a yell, he swung a cane at me feebly. Inspired, the other old folk clawed, swiped, pinched and prodded in my direction. Retreating, I was forced into a corner. My hands searched the recesses of my pockets, but to no avail. I was candyless. Not even a picture of children in there. I was trapped.
Just as I thought the day could get no worse, the doors to the room burst open dramatically. Light streamed into the gloom, illuminating a suited figure. He pointed, and two old men flanking him approached me slowly. Their walking frames rose in unison, pinning me to the wall, rendering escape inoperable. Pulling a hand-knitted beige straightjacked from his suit, the suited guard approached...
