As she walked across the long corridor, she could hear a hasty clock ticking, reverberating. The old brittle wallpaper covering the walls reminded her of her childhood. There were trees and flowers, and elephants and dolls and all sorts of things. The clock whispered in her ear, step up, and she matched her steps with the ticking of the clock. The elephants lined up, the trees and the flowers too, a welcoming committee in the making. “Isn’t this wallpaper nice?” she asked the man in white. He nodded. There was no wallpaper, only the whiteness of a hundred aseptic walls.