“Do I know you?” They both say it at the same time. He does, but doesn’t know it, and she doesn’t, and does.
“What’s your–”
“Name? Arthur. Arthur King.” He awkwardly fiddles with his hair.
“Weekley. Penelope Weekley.”
“Now, this’ll likely.. be really weird. So..” He takes a skeleton key from a chain around his neck.
“I’m sure I can..” He opens the door. “Jesus.”
“It’s, uhm, always been here. Since before I moved in.”
“This..” She turns away from it. “I can’t look at it. What the hell is that?”
“It’s my Hallway. It, uh, allows me to do what I do.”
“What the hell do you do that you need a fucking infinite hallway for to do?”
“Come.” He grabs her hand. “Just keep looking at the wall, you’ll be okay.”
He puts her in front of the closest door, which has the number 392 written on it in white crayon, and under it, in green, a checkmark.
“Open it.”
“You open it.”
“You have.. other worlds in your hallway?”
“Other worlds, other places, other times. The Hallway’s all over the continuum. Found a world once where the Nazis won the second World War. They were in the middle of a third before I showed up.”
“We were in London. London 2007.” She points outside. “Those are the World Trade Center towers!”
“This is the Sixties.” He says it like it explains everything.
“How far does that hallway go?”
“I don’t know. Never got to the end. Tried to, though. Nearly starved.”
“But you’ve numbered them. What’s the highest number you’ve marked and why was number 392 at the front?” She remembers to sip her coffee, which is already cold.
“I have a list. The highest number I’ve marked is 62349. 392 is the first one, now, because they switch around when you’re not looking.”
“What’s the weirdest thing you’ve found?”
“Planet of the Elvises.”
“Found any places we’d consider fictional?”
“Tons of’m.”
“So everything ever.. is real?”
“Even the Hundred Acre Wood. Could take you there.”
Her eyes light up. “You..”
“If we can find it. Off the top of my head it’s.. number 7439.”
