Fused Together In Revolving Doors.
The exact time and place is irrelevant. The smell of liquor and tobacco is thick in the air. Chattering voices mix with loud music and clanking glasses, reating an indecipherable drone comparable to a hive of bees. The jovial atmosphere is shattered by a sudden wave of flames when cigar ashes catch hold of a paper banner. The room is sent into a frenzy. One by one, brother stampedes brother. Friends trample friends. There is a race to the only exit... a set of revolving doors. Concerned only for personal welfare, the door jams with bodies. The people futilely claw and scrape at each other. Flesh burns from the intense heat and fingerprints are encarved intothe plexiglass walls that now serve as their prison. Their grave. Fused together in revolving doors.