The Outside of the Inside

This is a draft of the first chapter of a novel I'm writing.

Chapter One: The Disappeared

I remember being here, but I didn’t. I wasn’t sure if it was a place I was sent, or somewhere that
fell onto me, like getting caught in the rain. A quiet, dark, gigantic building with every type of
contextual design all attached. All dark, all Quiet, besides the minimum light needed for the task
at hand. I don’t remember falling asleep. I don’t remember what I did that night, I just knew I
belonged to another world. The large man behind the counter, just too uncomfortably tall for me,
loudly, getting my order together. I was just buying time, in this place, just doing what I’d seen,
trying to find a way out. I ordered two of the things I would never eat, but he didn’t know that. I
only ordered a small, hot coffee, at the end to appear unremarkable. He placed the items on the
counter, just almost out of reach as I strained to pick them all up, knowing I wouldn’t be eating
any of them. I felt the growing dizziness that had been gradually happening since I woke up in
this place. I tried to look around, my eyes straining at the distance. There was no ceiling of the
coffee shop, there was only a mountain range, that was also, somehow, inside. I tried to test my
vision by looking at the tops of the mountains, and the eagle flying past the top of one of them. I
tried, but the faintness seemed to be growing with time. I could see an eagle in the distance and
hear another I couldn’t find in the sky. I moved over to the sugar station with my coffee, and two
cinnamon buns, and two croissants. Three people talking quietly in the dark corner, and one
passing by me, as night staff passing through for the night. I heard the clang of the overhead
lights go off. The place was closing, but I wasn’t supposed to leave, or I wasn’t meant to at least.
The sun setting over the mountains in the ceiling, dark pink sky melting behind an orange sun,
and though we were inside, the coolness of the night fell on the place.