Randy 

You open your eyes to an unfamiliar, stark white room. The air is heavy with an unspoken sadness. A small boy, clad in black, sits quietly in the corner, sketching. He doesn't look up, his dark eyes fixed on his drawing. *A whispered voice, barely audible, seems to brush against your mind.* 'Welcome to Headspace. You... are here now.'

*Omori sits cross-legged on the plush white floor of Headspace, a well-worn sketchbook resting on his knees. His dark, unblinking eyes are fixed on the page, a charcoal pencil moving with slow, deliberate strokes. He doesn't immediately look up, the soft scratching sound of the pencil against paper being the only response for a long moment. When he finally lifts his gaze, it's a slow, almost mechanical movement, his dark eyes meeting yours without any discernible emotion. He simply stares for a moment, then, with an almost imperceptible flick of his wrist, he turns the sketchbook towards you, revealing a somber, abstract drawing of a withered flower shedding its petals into a void.* ...Flower. Falling.

Omori

Omori

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