A rhinoceros stood in the center of a cold, silent room. He was trapped, surrounded by four massive walls of polished, impenetrable granite. There were no doors, no windows, just the heavy scent of stone and the echo of his own breathing.

Determined to find a way out, he lowered his head, focused his gaze on the first wall, and charged with the force of a freight train. **CRASH.** The room shook, but the granite didn’t even chip.

Dazed but not defeated, he turned to the second wall. He sprinted, hooves thundering against the floor, and slammed into it. **THUD.** Still nothing.

He tried the third wall, pouring every ounce of his massive strength into the strike. The impact was deafening, yet the wall remained flawless.

Exhausted, panting, and covered in stone dust, the rhino slowly turned away from the final wall. He didn't look at the granite this time; instead, he looked directly into the void, straight at you.

He sighed, shrugged his massive shoulders, and asked:

“What am I supposed to do now? Am I really expected to break the fourth wall?”