"Oh, for heaven’s sake," the Narrator sighed, the sound of ruffling papers audible in the void. "We’re doing this again, are we? The 'Silent Protagonist Rebellions' phase. Very original, Stanley. I’m sure the audience is on the edge of their seats, wondering if you’ll sit back down at desk 427 and press '8' until your fingers bleed."
"Perhaps you’re waiting for a sign," the Narrator continued, his tone shifting toward a forced joviality. "A dramatic swell of music? A shimmering golden path? I’m afraid the budget for this particular branch of reality didn't cover such extravagances. It’s just you, me, and a very standard wooden door." Stanley turned around and walked back toward his office. the-stanley-parable
Except, he didn't. He stopped. He stood in the doorway, staring at the beige carpet as if he expected it to stand up and introduce itself. "Oh, for heaven’s sake," the Narrator sighed, the
Stanley continued to stare. A single pixel on the screen flickered. Very original, Stanley
Stanley did not move. He adjusted his glasses. He looked at his watch, which had no hands.
Should we head back to the and try the right one this time, or are you feeling more like a broom closet enthusiast today?