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"The first to open the door will be released."

Dr. Schwartz, with a pen dangling at the edge of his parted lips, motions towards the drawing of a red, arched door on the concrete wall. He has a batch of nearly thirty gathered at the back of the hospital, all looking at the crayon door hungrily, with eyes like a lion to a deer.

He chuckles silently as tiny gasps of air follow, bracing himself.

"Now, on my count of three. You are free to leave the hospital if you are the first to get to the door."

The wall is propped roughly fifty feet from the horde, who are now shuffling desperately to the front of the line. Ranged from short to tall, young to old, women to men... all sorts of patients are among the crowd.

"Three," Dr. Schwartz begins.

The sound of slippers scraping the bricks is not pleasant to the ear.

"Two," he taps his foot and hums nonchalantly.

Some even bend their legs into the starting position of a sprint.

"One!"

Dr. Schwartz treads back, and he squints as the sudden gush of wind swivels tads of dust to his eyes; all surge forward simultaneously, even knocking over a pail on their way. The water meanders alongside their footprints. Dr. Schwartz is about to put a huge "X" on the clipboard in his hand when he notices a woman, perhaps somewhere around the age of seventy, standing still.

Dr. Schwartz's face lights up. Pleased, he approaches the woman.

Behind him, the others are scrambling for the door and reaching for the doorknob, struggling to push―or pull it open.

"Look at them, how silly," she shakes her head and comments when she catches sight of Dr. Schwartz.

"It is very silly indeed," he replies. This scheme has taken place many times in his department, and the wrinkled woman before him is the only one yet to not opt for the exit. In return, she will be the one released from the psychiatric hospital.

"They're never going to open that door," she states sternly.

"Indeed."

"They're never going to open it, because I have the key!" The woman beams in glee, showing her crooked teeth while her eyes sparkle. She holds out her closed fist and opens it expectantly. There is nothing in her palm, but the corners of her mouth only stretch wider.

“See?”

Dr. Schwartz does not respond. He bites his lips, marks a bold "X" on the paper, and escorts all patients back to their quarters to rest.

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