• Thomas sat, alone, in the dark room. He watched the dark walls intently, as if they held the secrets to the universe itself. "Black", he thought out loud. He touched the wall with his palm, slowly sliding it down the smooth surface. "Black", he said again. What exactly IS black, he thought. "Is it real? Is this wall real? It appears to me as such, but what do others see, I wonder..." He continued to stare at the wall and looked down at the can of blue paint by his legs. Thomas had meant to paint this room, but something held him back. Something he couldn't quite explain. So he sat, and stared. He got up, and picked up the can of paint gingerly, careful so as to not spill any on the floor. Thomas then made his way through the entrance to the room. "A nice shade of yellow would be much nicer."