My name is George Gello, and I’ve been lost in Phelps Hall for seven years. However, I’m still hopeful I’ll get to my class, History of Architecture 3B. In fact, I predict my seven years in a terribly designed building will make me the star student. 

Phelps Hall is an impossible labyrinth of halls and other halls. During my seven-year tenure, I’ve bumped into many other lost souls. Some didn’t even intend to go to Phelps Hall — they simply ended up here. One of these lost people was a beautiful woman named Maria. We fell in love by the vending machine in North Hall and decided to get married. Unfortunately, I lost track of her when I had to go to the bathroom and ended up in a random history class. Looking back on it, I should have asked for her number.

Thankfully, I found a new love in the form of the janitor’s mop that I stole. The mop’s name was Mopina. Unfortunately, she would also leave me when the janitor found the mop and took it from me. 

This was in late 2019. The year after that was a hard one due to the pandemic. In order to quarantine, I lived in the janitor’s closet and traveled only through vents. Traveling through vents is a lot more difficult than it looks in the movies, but it helped that my meager rations of vending machine snacks have caused me to shrivel to a third of my size.

They recently fumigated the place, and I only survived because I hid in a very large water bottle in the lost and found. It was actually quite a pleasant experience. Within the metal walls, I had a chance to think about my life and the decisions I made that lead me here.

Anywho, if you see me walking through Phelps Hall, feel free to give me a pencil. There’s an architecture test coming up, and I haven’t studied yet.