Stanley walked out the office door for what felt like the millionth time, he hadn't been out the door for a second before the narrator chimed in, he wasn't really listening to what he was rambling on about this time, he just liked to hear him talk.
White balloons hung in the office, they weren't Stanley's first choice but they were growing on him.
He grabbed his bucked and made his way through the maze of his office building, the narrator rambling on and on about whatever is going on, Stanley smiles to himself, he used to want out, he used to want to go home.
He loves it here now, he loves the narrator, he's content, wandering through whatever crazy stuff he throws together.
He mindlessly follows the doorways listening to the narrators little path this time, into the ware house. Onto the platform.. off the platform. Probably should have been paying a little more attention to where he was walking, it's okay he can just walk back he has the time.
The light begins to fade in again and he waits to hear the narrator begin to ask what he did that for. He looks around..
This isn't his office. This is his bedroom, He's in his bed? What that all a dream? No. It couldn't be. He was okay with being trapped at work, no, he was happy. He wasn't trapped he wanted to be there, he needs to go back, he needs to hear the narrators sweet, calming voice.
Stanley looks around franticly he blinks a few times, how is he supposed to go back, this has to be another one of the narrators games he pushes through the door, his living room, he spins around, his kitchen, he goes through the next door, the bathroom, the next one, his front lawn.
The runs inside and throws on some clothes and pulls on his shoes and runs out of the house people, real human people, everywhere. He's free. He's wanted to be free of that building for as long as he's been there, he wants to go back.
He starts running, running as fast as he can, running to work. He runs till he can't breath, he runs anyways, each breath is harder to breathe his sides ache his heart is beating out of his chest, his ears and cheeks burn bright red with the slight chill in the air.
He pushes the door of the large office building open. He's panting. The receptionist looks up, "Stanley you're early b-" she tails of as he pushes past her ignoring every word, he runs to his office, nothing, there are people, all sorts of people. They shouldn't be here, he calls out for the narrator. He's not here. He swings his own door open. He sits in his chair. He closes his eyes. He waits. 5 minutes. 10. 25. He opens his eyes. He yells. He cries. He begs. He walks home.
He opens the door. His kitchen. He turns and goes through the other door. His bathroom. He showers.
He barely moves. He stands in the water for an hour.
Work calls. He doesn't answer. They call again. He turns his phone off. He goes back to bed. He can't sleep. He cries. He talks to narrator. He never answers. He cries himself to sleep.
He wakes up the next day. Still at home. He screams his lungs out. He doesn't leave his home for the next week. He sleeps all day every day. He can't live like this. He lost everything. He lost the narrator, HIS narrator.
He was never real, none of it was real. It was all a dream, fake, he didn't love the narrator, the narrator didn't love him, he wasn't real, the feelings weren't real, these feelings aren't real.
Stanley turned his phone on. 136 missed calls.
Stanley got dressed. Stanley went to work. Stanley typed on his computer in his office. Stanley went home. Stanley ate dinner. Stanley showered. Stanley went to bed. Stanley woke up. Stanley did it all again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again...
And Stanley grew older. And Stanley grieved, Stanley mourned, Stanley cried, Stanley moved on, Stanley forgot, and Stanley retired, and Stanley died. Alone.
