I swiftly lost my bearings in the mist, unsure of which door I had entered. Mist and shadow obscured the room’s ceiling, if it indeed had one. I was not alone. A small crowd of people gathered around the room’s only feature: an antique traffic signal, shining red and, strangely enough, blue light across the puzzled faces. The glow illuminated the numeral 3, painted on each bulb. I stood with the others, pondering the signal. 3 and 3. 33? What had happened to the yellow and green lights? Perhaps it wasn’t a traffic signal at all.

I noticed a man standing apart from the crowd, studying one of the rooms’ four simple doors. For some reason my mind recalled the stage from my old theatre days. Spare, but efficient, the cornerstone of new worlds. I approached the man.

“Tired of standing about yammering as well, eh?” he asked. “Me too. I’m ready.”

“Ready?” I asked. I could already tell from his bearing that he was of an adventurous disposition. “Ready for what?” I never know what to do with my hands in these situations, so I put them in my pockets. Eh, what’s this?

“To open a door, of course! Only question is who gets to choose first.”

“I suppose we could roll for it,” I said, showing him the dice I had discovered in my pocket.

“Aye, that’s the spirit,” he grinned. We crouched near the marble floor, each tossing a die. The clattering bones echoed up into the room’s dark, infinite spaces.