The silver surface is still, as I, trapped in this box stand unmoving with it. The Eastern-Lily has wilted, a Dwarf Iris taken its place. A land to roam viewed within its reflective walls, with every touch a ripple to deform the landscape within. Time is at a halt within this room. The mercury-like floor is wrapping itself around my limbs, but I do not fight. I simply close my eyes as I become engulfed with the odd substance that traps me. There is nothing to be done, with no way out, no noise, no sound, I give in. It wraps unevenly, coating me within the silver. An eye covered as my hands are bound by the strands connecting to the floor. Choking on the silver.... fading.... until I am nothing.... nothing... but chrome...