The West Wing

A short time later, Amy thanked her quirky host and retired for the evening. She became lost in disjointed thoughts before realising that her exhausted mind had let her body ascend the stairs by itself - she needed to sleep. Turning left, she trudged her way along the corridor, letting her feet sink into the thick carpet with every slow step.

"The East Wing is filled with bedrooms Amy. Pick any you like. Sweet dreams!" That is what Sam had told her.

She turned a corner and was greeted by five doors; three in front of her and one on each side. Amy paused, "and what exactly is the floor-plan for this place," rolled her eyes and reached her hand for the nearest door.

Unbeknown to Amy, no matter where she walked from the stairs, she was always going to enter the West Wing. Sam had made sure of it.