text: If you saw the building from the outside, it may not seem like an unpleasant place to live. Windows dotted the structure, each having its own white frame. Through most windows, a set of blinds could be seen blocking out the outside world. Bricks made up the building in an almost perfect pattern, being broken only by the occasional window, door, or other obstruction. The bricks making up the structure varied in color ranging from a dull red to a muddy brown almost black color. The exterior stood out no more than any neighboring building, providing no indication as to the true nature of it . Upon entering the building, it became clear that the innocent exterior masked a more sinister soul. Various stains cover the wallpaper and carpeted floor, the air conditioning rarely functions as it should, and the smell of cigarettes seems to permeate through every wall. Cockroaches run rampant through the rooms and hallways, and at times it felt more their home than any of the tenants. The landlord somehow managed to turn a blind eye to these problems. When I first signed my lease, I made my landlord aware of every issue I found. Every little broken blind, or strange leak I came across, I alerted him. I would tell him of my newfound trouble only for him to give me an unconvincing smile and tell me he’d have it taken care of soon. After a few weeks of him pretending to care only for me to find the problem never got solved, I realized my efforts were in vain. The place disgusted me, so I avoided staying there as much as possible. I slept and ate my meals there, but any excess time I had I spent at the local library or at my job. I worked as a waiter. My manager didn’t pay me much, so my main source of income came in the form of the generosity of strangers through their tips. Most customers we had tipped nicely, adding 15%-20% to the total cost of their meal. Some customers, though, resented me based on some insignificant action I did that they considered a tremendous mistake in their selfish minds. They usually declined to leave a tip based on that incredible act of tyranny I committed by taking too long to refill their drinks or forgetting to remind them of our specials. This type of customer threatened my ability to put food on the table, and for that, I resented them in return. On the social hierarchy, I sat one step above a homeless person begging for money on the streets each day. Not for lack of trying to climb up the convoluted ladder that is our society, but due to my unfortunate circumstance. My mother had raised me with no help from a second parent, even in the form of monthly checks. At times, she would struggle to put food on the table, and as a result, she worked long hours to raise enough money to support the two of us. I would stay awake until the late hours of the night when the atmosphere was painted a lightless blue and the usual silence only broke due to an occasional insect calling out to its friends or a lone car driving by. I stayed up waiting for my mom to come home from work, so I had the chance to see her before she returned to her job and left me behind for another day. Staying up this late took a toll on me. At school, I tried my hardest to pay attention in spite of the fatigue I felt due to the near sleepless nights I spent waiting for my mom to come home. The tiredness I experienced only made it more difficult for me to learn. I would have loved to feel well-rested, but I couldn’t afford to lose time I could have used to study, so the cycle repeated. My mom wanted me to study hard in order to get good grades, so I might earn an academic scholarship. I didn’t play any sports or belong to any minority groups, so my ticket out of a life of poverty lied in a scholarship based on my academic success. However, I lacked any sort of academic ability. I passed my classes, but with difficulty. My grades hovered around C’s with an occasional A or B. No colleges want to give a scholarship to a kid who struggles to pass mere high school classes. My schooling led me nowhere. I didn’t go to college and I ended up working for little pay at a shabby restaurant while living in an even shabbier apartment. I despised living as I did, and longed for a way out. One night my prayers were answered. I awoke due to a light emanating from my closet rousing me from my sleep. The light illuminated my entire room in a cold blue glow. At first, I attributed it to a symptom of my drowsiness and attempted to fall back asleep. As I slept it became brighter and brighter, until the entire room became engulfed in a beautiful blue luminescence. I tossed and turned trying in vain to ignore the light once again. It gave me no choice but to get out of bed and investigate the source. Annoyed that I had already lost precious sleep, I stepped out of bed and walked to my closet. I ripped open the door ready to confront whatever had caused the light. On the wall of my closet adjacent to my closet door stood a door emitting the same blue light that had woken me from my sleep. Confused, I opened the door and behind it, I discovered another door identical to the first. The second door stood a few feet behind the first, in a space enveloped in black. The area between two doors contained nothing other than the two doors opposing each other. I stepped into the dark gap between the doors and opened the second one. Behind it, I saw a blank expanse identical to the one I then stood in, complete with another door. I stepped through again, and again and saw the same each time. I had made no signs of progress as I trudged forwards trying to find the end of the straightforward labyrinth I had found myself in. Already exhausted, I made my way forward through the endless mess of doors until a final door opened into a barren room. After I stepped through what must have been my hundredth door, my apartment could no longer be seen through the row of open doors that lay behind me. The room’s walls all matched, each one painted a drab brown color. The room contained nothing more than a window on one of the walls, allowing a view into a lifeless black void. The room appeared lit, however, I couldn’t locate the source of this light. As I turned around to study the room in search of anything more it may contain, a figure materialized right in front of me. Before me stood a man in nothing more than an ordinary T-shirt, jeans, and a pair of pink crocs. No patterns or brand claimed the shirt as their own, the only distinct feature of it came in the form of a singular pocket on the upper chest. The pants had no holes or any other form of damage in them, matching the shirt in terms of plainness. The crocs had a bright pink color to them, that strain the eyes after just a few seconds of exposure. They appeared to contradict the rest of his apparel while providing a sort of perfect balance that completed the outfit and revealed some hidden beauty within each choice of clothing. “Killer,” I said, my attention focused on the really cool and awesome crocs he wore. Many would think this choice of clothing odd, but as I laid my eyes on them, I found the contrast exposed an elegant asymmetry within each selection of apparel. Looking at them I realized nothing I had seen previously compared to them in terms of style. The attire the man wore surpassed anything any ordinary man could put together. The more I thought about the shoes he wore and the fine artistry that resulted in his clothing, I realized I had met no ordinary man. The man began to speak, stealing my attention from his shoes and putting it on his voice. “Aw, thanks,” Said the man while suppressing a bashful smile. Although stylish, the crocs offered no explanation as to my whereabouts, or origin of the strange portal that I had found in my bedroom. “Where am I?” I asked, hoping to find an explanation or way back home. The man appeared uninterested in my question, as he walked towards the one lone window on the wall of the room. As he peered out into the abyss, he offered me a deal. “I could make you a millionaire,” Turning to face me, a comforting smile spread across his face. “There’s only one condition.” “What is it?” As I showed my interest, his smile grew more sinister. All my life I’ve been pushed around, and stepped all over. Having millions of dollars to my name would solve all my problems. This could be my ticket out of a life of poverty. This could be my chance to finally be somebody. “You can never own a pair of crocs.” Those last words felt like a punch to the gut. For a moment, I thought some god had summoned me to answer my prayers, but when the reality of the situation hit, I realized the devil had actually come to torment me with a bargain too good to be true. After I told that fashionable demon the conclusion I had come to, I awoke back in my apartment. Feeling content with my decision, I donned my crocs and drove to work.