Everything was louder, closer to the ground. The floor vibrated with every step other people took. The recycled air felt more stale. He thought he might throw up again. The vivid imagery of his head exploding like a dropped watermelon and choking to death inside some sort of crinkly suit wasn't helping.

This is not where or how he wanted to die.

Matt wipes his lips with the back of his hand and sighs, his stomach churning uneasily.

"Where are the nice rooms?" For future reference.