Imagine, if you will, a corridor: long, beige, and utterly unremarkable. Now imagine that same corridor as part of a person, breathing, blinking, and regarding you with quiet indignation. For Martin Hale, these two visions are one and the same.

Mr. Hale is a reasonable man in an unreasonable predicament. He opens a door and finds not a passageway, but a person. He averts his eyes out of courtesy only to walk headlong into a wall that insists it was never flesh at all. Doctors tell him his vision is perfect. Friends tell him to relax. Architects, however, have begun filing complaints.

Tonight’s story is not about desire, nor about indecency. It is about perception and what happens when the human mind, in a final act of rebellion, refuses to label the world correctly. For Mr. Hale, every hallway is exposed, every person an empty space to be passed through.

You are about to enter a place where context collapses, where the ordinary becomes profoundly inappropriate, and where the most dangerous thing is not what you see but what you think you’re seeing.

You’ve just stepped into…The Twilight Zone.