The Messroom

A point of no return, something set in motion by his own
(in)action, the room is a constant reminder to Jozef K. that the trial is now
part of his life. Peeping eyes from upstairs offices watch his movement towards
an empty room, the door ajar with light shining out from it. Perhaps a trick of
the light? Opening the door and quickly closing it, habit or resisting the urge
to step in and enter the room?

Soft spoken and always working late, Mr Jozef K. stalks this
wing of the building. Roaming about the marble floors, telling all and every
clerk he meets to “clean the room in the back”. Never showing dissatisfaction
of the task, perhaps, incorrectly completed, he keeps on asking. The clerks
have learned to avoid this wing at night, instead keeping to the central hall
if they are called to another office.

The only reminder of this is the building itself. Dimly lit offices
forming a frame around the dreaded room, the hall stretching out seemingly
without end and a small light coming from the ajar door.