[ The ballerina still melts away into a shimmery puddle of nothing. Story of his life, really. Every time he tries to do something right, it just doesn't seem to work out.
Another song plays and it gets shuffled away in his memories.
It takes him a solid three seconds to notice that the mirrors surrounding him are melting away in the same manner as the ice sculpture.
He rushes towards the same door, wiping his hands of whatever silver that had gotten on his hands. He is done with this room. He is done with being here. Murphy is just done. ]
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Another song plays and it gets shuffled away in his memories.
It takes him a solid three seconds to notice that the mirrors surrounding him are melting away in the same manner as the ice sculpture.
He rushes towards the same door, wiping his hands of whatever silver that had gotten on his hands. He is done with this room. He is done with being here. Murphy is just done. ]