You step in through the main door into a narrow hallway with three doors. A bare, flickering lightbulb hangs on the tall ceiling. You remember something about authors lacking funds and hope the light doesn't go out. A plush carpet, soft and warm against your toes (we'll have to discuss why you are barefoot in a stranger's house later), lines the floor, leading the way to the doors. There are signs above the doors, you squint to read them.
The door on your right reads "Library". There's a waft coming from below the door. It has the aroma of old books and adventures, you imagine Santiago's writing can be found here.
The door at the other end of the hallway reads "Bedroom". The door is slightly ajar, you think you can probably learn more about Santiago in there.
The door to your left reads "Study". There’s a soft glow coming from below the door — green and pulsating — and a droning hum. You imagine it's a portal of communication of some sort.
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