He woke up in the morning with the same old familiar tune
playing in his head. It was pleasant in the beginning, but
as he brushed his teeth, he began to get bored of it. It was
like one of those catchy songs to which you listen once, and
then they are stuck in your head. But he couldn't quite tell
the words of the song. He couldn't tell if there WERE words
to this song. As he washed the tooth paste out of his mouth,
he recalled that he had been dreaming about this tune. He
tried to remember where did he hear the song last night and
got stuck to it, but he couldn't recall which song it was.

He almost cut himself shaving as he as trying to remember
when was the last time he heard this song or where. He tried
in vain. He was stuck with a nameless, wordless tune in his
head. He tried to fight it; he tried to thing of another
song, any song. He didn't mind thinking about a terrible
song if only he could get this tune out of his mind. If he
wasn't going to find out where did that tune came from he
must forget about it. But every other song he tried to sing
to himself ended up with matching different words to the
tune inside his head.

What was worse was that it was a short tune, the kind of
tune you really get bored listening to over and over again.
It got him mad. It was an endless loop. He tried to stop
thinking but that was really something one cannot do. You
can stop breathing. You can stop blinking. But hard as you
try, you can't stop thinking. The thoughts simply go on like
heart beats, until it stops. He couldn't control it just
like he couldn't stop that endless loop.

He left his apartment, slamming the door. He walked down the
stairs with that tune playing in his head. It was almost a
week that the elevator had been broken. So, he had to take
the stairs. He hated the stairs. There was not a window in
the stairway. There was hardly enough air to breath. He
always got a headache when taking the stairs. But he had no
choice.

He stepped hard so that his shoes made noise against the
stairs. He was trying to distract himself from the sound of
the tune, but the foot taps simply harmonized with the tune
in his head. He was in a great hurry that day and those
stairs, they seemed like they were endless. Of course, he
knew they were not endless, but from eight floors high, they
seemed ENDLESS.

It wasn't as though he was late or something, he was simply
in a hurry to get out of this airless corridor, get into his
car, turn on the radio, and get rid of that annoying tune in
his head. He kept going fast. He descended and descended.
There were only stairs in sight. There was an end to the
stairway. He knew there was and end, but that day it seemed
like there wasn't. He then recalled walking down the very
floor, with this very annoying tune playing in his head.

He decided to count the floors. That way he'll know how
closer he got to the end. Plus, thinking about numbers might
get that loop out of his head. He began counting: One floor,
two floors, three floors, four floors... when he reached the
second floor a red light was turned in his head. 'There
should be two more floors'. He thought as he kept going down
the stairs. He increased hip pace. He was almost certain he
had descended more than five floors. The same tune was still
playing in his head. Soon, he will find out - floor two,
floor one, a half floor... he must have lost track of his
counting. There was this song again. He couldn't concentrate
on counting. He couldn't concentrate on anything, actually.
Anything but the goddamned song! He wasn't even sure it WAS
a song. It could have been a cell phone ring for all he
knew. It could have been HIS cell phone ring. But his ring
was different. He turned on his cellular phone and kept
switching rings. But he couldn't concentrate on any one of
the new rings. All he could tell was that none of these
rings were anything like the tune inside his head.

Meanwhile, he kept going down. There were more and more
stairs. He was running out of air. But he wasn't running out
of stairs. He couldn't go on this way, listening to the same
tune, going down the same stairs. He was in a hurry. He
couldn't stop. He kept going faster and faster, knowing
there must be an end. Those stairs couldn't be endless. He
KNEW it. And since he knew there was an end, he was going to
reach it. He had no time to waste. He was kind of stressed,
actually. But he had a reason. Reason said that the quicker
he goes down, the quicker he reached the end. So, he kept
moving fast, until he could move no more.

Usually, it's climbing the stairs that is considered
difficult. You don't hear about people getting tired of
going down the stairs. It is a fact that going down the
stairs doesn't take nearly as much energy as climbing. It is
not uncommon that when people climb the stairs they wish
they could be going down. How lovely would it be if going up
the stairs would be as easy as going down! However, for our
hero at this point going down the stairs was as difficult as
going up. As a matter of fact, he believed he would prefer
to climb it.

Since going down the stairs, fast as he went, was never
ending, our hero stopped and decided to use his common sense
(as much as he could, because reason was hiding beneath that
ongoing tune which was playing in his head all along).
Though it was somewhat inconceivable to think of stairs with
no end, reason said that if there WAS an end, he would have
seen it by now. He checked the door at the very same floor.
To his surprise, it was door number 112. Not only it was
inconceivable but irrational as well. After all, door number
112 was the very door he slammed as he was leaving his
apartment! As hard as he wished not to think about it, he
still had that annoying tune playing in his head. He was
airless, powerless, sweaty, and confused. Most of all, he
had to get that tune out of his head.

He opened the door, got into his apartment, and took his
clothes off. He went back to bed. He stared at the alarm
watch. He turned it on. But it wasn't that tune. He turned
it off. There was a window in his bedroom. If there was a
way to get out of this building, it was going through that
window. He reflected. He had do get out of this building. He
had to break the nerve-breaking loop.

He got up and looked through the window. What he saw wasn't
roof tops, roads, pavements, or trees. Hell, there were now
trees in this city anyhow. It wasn't the sky, the sun, or
the moon, not even clouds. It was nothing.

He wasn't going to jump. He had something very annoying
inside his head but he wasn't going to jump into the
nothing. The nothing would only make things worse. Inside
the nothing, he knew, there would be nothing to distract his
mind from the loop. But then he recalled how wrong it turned
being reasonable when going down the stairs.

He had to do something. And so he did - jump into the
nothing because that was the only thing he could do.

It didn't turn out too reasonable, or conceivable, but the
nothing had swallowed everything he had had in mind,
including the annoying loop. To this day, it is unknown what
tune had our hero had playing in loop inside his head as he
jumped into the nothing.