A tired man takes the last key from an empty hotel desk and walks a corridor that turns to carpet and fills with water — and room 214 opens onto the lobby where he began.
Takes ten seconds. Your stars and comments shape the next storyboards.
16 keyframes. 7 ghost frames — the one-change-per-edit steps between them — are hidden; switch them on at the bottom left.

Past midnight. A man with a suitcase arrives at a hotel. There is no one at the desk.

He rings the bell. Nobody comes.


Only one key is left on the board: 214.

So he takes it himself.

Room 214 is somewhere down this corridor.

The first door says 213. So does the next one. So does every one after that.



He keeps walking. The carpet has climbed the walls and covered the ceiling.



The corridor is filling with water.

Waist deep. His suitcase floats beside him. He keeps walking.



Room 214, at last. The key still fits.

The door swings open. Behind it is not a room: it is the lobby he started in — and it is perfectly dry.

Now he is the one behind the desk: soaking wet, holding the key.

Someone arrives with a suitcase. It is him.

He rings the bell.

The key changes hands.

Room 214 is somewhere down this corridor.


















