This is a dim corridor, the air filled with the scent of disinfectant. On each side of the corridor, there are iron doors, painted with three digits in white paint.
The hinges creaked as the iron doors were pushed open, a man in white uniform stood at the entrance. The man, wearing a badge, held a clipboard, and called names one by one:
"134..."
"Here."
"135..."
"Here!"
"136..."
"Here~"
"137...137?"
The man with the badge looked up, only to see the door of room 137 tightly closed, a spot in the row of people was vacant.
He stepped forward and knocked on the rusty iron door, receiving no response; then tried turning the handle, only to find it locked.
Helpless, he took out a spare key ring from his waist, his head down searching for the corresponding key one by one.
