I was trying to find a way out of the subway station and I followed the exit signs to some doors and when I went through them I was in this enormous echoing hallway made of grimy cement. the bottom, where I was standing, was a metal grid over a pit with no visible bottom, and the approximate three hundred stairs were wet from unknown liquid and salted liberally with broken glass and the whole place smelled like a cave and was lit by one string of flickering lights
and there was no one. that was really weird because this was the university stop on Friday night, there should have been other people trying to leave, but I couldn’t even hear the trains. at the top there were no turnstiles to leave, or exit signs, or shops, or anything besides a small door in a concrete wall, which I almost didn’t see at first
it went outside and when I turned around I was standing in a cracked and mossy parking lot lit by a far-off streetlamp outside what looked like a warehouse: just a wall of cement. no metro sign, or any sign at all, just two small doors that couldn’t be opened from outside.
I still have no idea where I ended up and the more I think about it the more surreal it seems, like I somehow narrowly avoided walking through the doors during a time period when they were a portal to a shadow realm or something.