Level 33: You Were Here (The Fountain Still Runs)

## A submerged retail space stretches endlessly, where tiled walkways dissolve into shallow, ## chlorinated water. Storefronts stand open but empty, their interiors half-flooded, ## shelves reflecting softly in the surface like misplaced memories. ## Overhead lights hum with quiet persistence, casting pale reflections that ## ripple as the water moves in a slow, almost intentional direction. ## At the center, a fountain overflows without pause, feeding the thin current that winds through corridors once meant for wandering. ## The architecture feels familiar, escalators, signage, glass , but stripped of purpose, softened by moisture and echo. Sound travels too far, ## footsteps blur into the distance, and every path feels like it leads somewhere just out of reach. ## This place does not feel abandoned. It feels preserved mid-function, as if the systems never received the signal to stop. ## The water continues to circulate, the lights remain on, and the space gently urges you forward, not with urgency, but with quiet expectation. ## Original song without any polish (it had abrupt ending) and changes to lyrics and length trimmed to 5 minutes ## https://suno.com/s/1Exp9MYsCN5FYMou The map is still there on the wall. (you were here) Finger-worn at the center, a red dot that means nothing now. I came back the way I always did, through the side entrance by the food court. The tiles remember the pattern of shoes that no one's worn in years. (I remember the smell of it) Orange Julius. Wet carpet. Something fried and far away. The anchor store at the end of the hall has been dark since before I could say why. (before I understood leaving) Every shop front a mouth. Every gate pulled down a word I wasn't ready for. We were small here once, coins dropped in the fountain like a wish had weight. The skylight let in something close to afternoon. (it felt like the whole world) We didn't know what we were practicing. We didn't know it ended. (mm) There's a place by the old carousel where the grout between the tiles cracked first. there was a counter near the east wing phone cases fading on their hooks The food court chairs are stacked in a corner. One table still has a tray. I don't know if that's sad or just the way abandoned things settle. (everything settles eventually) The escalator froze mid-thought, a staircase now, going somewhere that doesn't answer. We were small here once, coins dropped in the fountain like a wish had weight. The skylight let in something close to afternoon. (it felt like the whole world) We didn't know what we were practicing. We didn't know it ended. (we really didn't know) What do you call the years a place was full? What do you name the in-between? Not a ruin. Not yet. Just a building still wearing its hours like a coat it hasn't returned. (like it's waiting for someone) (just outside the frame) The fountain hasn't been drained. Water just went somewhere else. (mm~) The map is still there. Red dot. Center. You were here. (you were here)