A corridor that eats. A boy who cries for others. A girl made of clocks. Two teenagers wake in a living hallway that feeds on their pain. One feels everything. One feels nothing. Both are breaking. Stitched eyes. Ticking skin. Walls that breathe. Memories that leak. They've met 100,000 times before. They don't remember. They'll meet 100,000 times again. They won't forget. This is not a love story. This is a digestion.