Thread:BlackDragonKid/@comment-26863232-20180208000528/@comment-26863232-20180208031329

She looked at you, before shrugging. "Well, now you know where the exit is, just in case.  This is an awfully nice place, but it's kinda dangerous here.  Everything is made of paint and paper." You feel the need to ask why, but she puts down her ukelele and scoops up a handful of sand, or, as she explains, shredded yellow paper. "So, how'd you get here?"

Miss WInnie moves away from the slit in the ceiling and disappears from sight. You can feel the box rock back and forth, as if floating on water.