The floor can't go on forever, you remember. You find yourself in a large chamber with a high vaulted ceiling. There are no adornments. The walls, floors and ceiling are the same white polished marble, seamlessly joined so that it is impossible to tell where one ends and the next begins. You hear weeping.
Someone is weeping, very softly, echoing across the vaulted ceiling.
You realize you feel some of the sorrow, and that the mourner's sorrow is your fault. You know this, but don't know how you know. You search for the mourner. The chamber is more vast than you thought. You walk, but there is no way to tell how far you have gone, or how long it has taken for you to get there.