The office is white, stark, stylish, like no nonsense can ever go on here.

And that might be why two girls are hiding under a desk, white, stark as the office. It might, just.

There’s scuffling, and occasional sighs, very warm.  Giggles. Very inappropriate mumbling, effervescent, light, bubbling, rising up to the ceiling in escalating excitement. Two little girls playing hide and seek, breaking buttons, knocking their heads against the table top, their colourful socks’ seams coming loose, giggling uncontrollably. One bites the others ear and the other swats her away, with bright, fluorescent coloured giggles. 

But they hush now; a man is walking into the room.  Bright yellow shirt, pink tie, just the right baby pink beret perched on his head at the perfect angle and an absolutely straight face wearing the funkiest Black glasses you ever saw. Just the kind of person you would expect to see in a perfectly styled, white as snow, always in season Prada office. 

One of the girls is suppressing a laugh, and the other is trying to suppress her some more, hand on mouth, almost unable to stop giggling herself. They keep hiding, each in turn silently shushing the other, long, lithe limbs entangled. Their hearts sound like an elephant rampage, beating nervously, excitedly, against respective ribcages, close together. Quiet, hush, they murmur alternatively, unable to wipe off glowing adolescent smiles from their faces.

The man is carrying a huge rolled up sheet. He walks very decidedly to the centre of the room, where he unrolls the sheet. He seems completely unaware that he isn’t alone. It is the life size image of a white house with blue doors and windows. It covers up the whole floor of the huge white room that they are all in. 

Then he walks to the table, as if he knew that they were there all along. The girls can hear approaching footsteps, their smiles are fading, panic stricken expressions replacing them. He drags the girls out by the scruffs of their collars to the centre of the room, bending down. He opens the blue paper door on the blown up poster of the white house, and pushes them in.



They stare, as though their minds are about to explode, at Narnia. 

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