The room was almost desolate and the only piece of furniture it contained was a desk. The wood pattern was engraved with intricate circular symbols and did much to brighten the area. Still, even with the desk, the blank white walls, plain purple carpeting, and the simple light fixture, the lodgings only seemed lifeless. It was clearly not for any normal human being.
Soon, however, this accommodation would be considered one of the most important out of the countless others close by. Not because of the way it looked but more likely the events that would occur in its interior. The room's fazing history could make any who knew it pause to question his sanity.
But even the hallway it resided in was seemingly impossible. The corridor could not always be found where one saw it last. Nor could the room, until someone claimed it. Even then, it might still move simply because she, the building, wished it to. The living, ever-changing structure the room could be found in was, of course, the TARDIS...
