Paint

"I'm having an extremely surreal day," he starts, a look of resignation on his face as he's about to ask me something he knows is strange. "But my key won't open the door to the lab."

"What."

"It's like glued shut or something."

"What."

"Just come with me. I want you to watch me try."

"What."

And he wasn't kidding. The key turns in the lock and the door flexes inwards slightly before it sticks with a curious plastic stretching noise. The door had been recently painted, and I can see the edges of latex pulling strands like melted cheese.

"We have no choice. We'll have to break it down," I announce with mock gravity.

"I was hoping you'd say that," he responds, before giving the door a hefty kick.

17 March 2014 17:48