Daerick stepped through the door and turned around. Everything changed.
One second earlier, he’d been in the musty, dusty basement of the foundry section of the much-altered, much renovated, rambling (and abandoned) factory he was seriously thinking about buying.
Now here he was, standing outdoors in over-bright sunlight, at the edge of a blueish grey stone cliff, one step away from a fifty foot drop to a pile of sharp looking boulders, then maybe twenty yards of boulder pocked sloping sand, more stone, and then angry pounding waves.
Behind him, a door; around him, a ledge; above him, steep, nearly vertical stone; below him, more steep, nearly vertical stone.
“-Um….” he looked around. A seagull flew toward him and hovered inquisitively, called and drooled.
An image of someone standing in his place, tearing off bits of almost stale bread and tossing them into the air for gulls to catch… filled Daerick’s mind, “Bread?” he shrugged, “I don’t have any bread for you.”
The gull screeched, indignant. Daerick got the distinct impression that the bird would try to drop a long stringy bit of … um, bird poo on him.
He yanked the door open and hurried through it, pulled it closed behind him.
Back in the basement. Musty, dusty, no hint of salt air-
He shuddered, turned the door knob- slowly pulled the door open again-
Sunlight- salt sea air, and a hovering sea gull-
He slammed the door shut, sighed, turned around, leaned back and slid down the closed door to a squatting position, “Uh-” he shrugged, “That’s different….”