Amidst a cold urban smörgåsbord of drab grey steel and concrete, the building loomed large and impersonal.
The vehicle left the road and entered the complex through a web of steel barriers which led underground.
His thoughts were a maelstrom: where were they taking him? How had it all come to this? Was he actually dead ?
Head down, he stumbled through the winding maze of rooms, heart sinking with every step. He stopped frequently to rest, but there would be no respite. Sisyphus-like he would try again, only to find a further nightmare of rooms, doors and signs which led nowhere. He resigned himself to the fact that he was never going to get out alive and he started to sing his death song.
Yet incredibly, after what seemed like an eternity*, he finally paid his debt and was released: he was a free man.
That's the last time he'll ever go to IKEA.
