WRONG TURN AT THE FIRE EXIT

The Daydreamer took the wrong door out. Hell welcomed him with fire, theatre, and demons rehearsing intimidation. Pitchforks gleamed. Chains rattled. The whole production of damnation performed on schedule. And the Daydreamer stood in the flames like someone waiting for a bus. Unbothered. Unburned. Looking around like a traveler on a very interesting detour. The demons conferred. This wasn’t in the manual. Damnation requires participation, and this one wasn’t participating. Somewhere in the underworld, a fire exit glowed that shouldn’t exist—the one that leads up. Some visitors are just passing through. Some wrong turns are shortcuts. The Daydreamer walked toward it. The flames parted.