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Light bulbs burn down on you as from a thousand white suns. You blink hard against the glare, willing your eyes to adjust. It's too early for this many lumens. Or is it too late? Whatever. As you contemplate which floor you want, you take a seat in a remarkably shaggy chair. Has this always been here? The painted camera's unblinking gaze stares down at you.
Briefly, you wonder if you shouldn't just stay here. It's cozy enough, even if you still can't identify that smell...
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