Franklin inhaled sharply and looked around. It was dark, of course, it usually was whenever this sort of thing happened, and quiet. Didn’t smell like much of anything either, though he supposed that was a smell in and of itself, the absence of one. Not chemically clean but not stale and musty. Just plain, flat, room temperature air. And peanuts. Oh, that was his breath. He had been enjoying a snack moments before. But if he could smell his breath, he was probably facing a wall. Franklin shuffled his feet, carefully turning himself in place. That was a bit better. He could make out more of the room now. It was still dark, but there was a door, and that door let in just enough light through the crack beneath it for Franklin to make out the shapes of shelves and boxes, and the shapes of spray bottles and paper towels on top of these shelves and boxes, and what he would guess as a sink in the back corner. It fit perfectly into his idea of a cleaning supply closet, only short of a yellow rolling bucket and mop, so that was where he supposed he was.

He took a few careful steps forward and placed his hand on the door knob. Then, remembering himself, he withdrew that hand and used it to brush his shirt free of any crumbs that may have accompanied him on his abrupt journey. He ran his tongue along his teeth for the same reason, and wiped the corners of his mouth before at last returning his fingers to the knob and turning. Franklin breathed out a sigh of thanks as the door clicked open without any locks protesting, and stepped out into the evening light of an empty hallway. Might as well stretch his legs, he thought.

The soft tumps of his argyle socks padding against the floor were comforting to him as he walked. He never seemed to be fully ready before these sudden journeys, but he was thankful that he was only without his shoes this time round. When it first started happening, he had been entirely unprepared. The first was on the train, innocent enough, more shocking than anything, but the two times after that he was in the middle of a shave. After he found himself backstage of a play with wet hair only a towel, he began to take it more seriously. Still, he could never predict when one would come upon him, so slip ups did still happen from time to time.

The hallway split in front of him; one path continued forward while the other turned to the right. Right seemed more interesting than forward, he thought, and so he continued on.

He tried to enjoy his trips. Most times, his entrance went unnoticed and any strange attire was ignored. At the worst, he would apologize and ask for a change of clothes or directions back home. He often wondered if this sort of thing happened to anyone else, but he never asked. Franklin didn’t like to make waves, didn’t go out much. The few friends he had were not the kind he could risk scaring off with such strange questions. He doubted it was anything genetic, his mother was never very good at keeping secrets, and his father just didn’t seem like the type. With no siblings to compare notes with, and Google searches coming up dry, Franklin figured it would be best to leave that line of query alone for the time being.

At the end of the hallway to the right was a door, and through the door a large room with a domed ceiling. Lovely pieces of art were on display all around, each lit up with their own source of light, but none with any admiring viewers. Franklin ventured among them, his socks tumping gently along the smooth wood floor, taking small steps to ensure that he didn’t slip and topple into any of the displays.

A clang echoed into the space and Franklin turned, seeing a stunned custodian gripping the handle of his mop very tightly. Beside him was the yellow rolling bucket that had been missing before.

“How did you get in here? How did you possibly get passed security?”

Franklin offered a soft smile.

“I couldn’t possibly tell you... I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”