'Stanley' stood motionless as The Narrator pleaded with him to make a decision, a choice. The real Stanley was a spectator to this whole event, apparently above them both. How ironic, Stanley thought, that only when Stanley no longer amused him, no longer satisfied his sense of control did The Narrator insist that he had a choice that mattered.
Everything faded to black soon enough.

Stanley found himself in his office once more as he'd done countless times. His monitor flickered with the words 'The Stanley Parable'.
Stanley pushed himself away from it in disgust, listening to the near inaudible going ons of the office outside.
The clatter of fingers on the keyboard, the ringing of phones.
To a normal person these words were mundane, but to Stanley who had spent a seemed like forever in that empty duplicate world, it was a weary welcome. It was not a certain indication that he had escaped, more than once he'd been greeted with the same scenario only to come racing out to find himself stuck in the game once again.

How long had it been?
Hours? Minutes?
Days? Years?

Stanley didn't know anymore.
How many times had he found himself in this office?
It was innumerable.
Every time he started over his reaction had always been the same.
Hate
Disgust
Welcome
Solitude

Even if he had come back to the real world, he was bound to this place still. Even if he ran out of the office right now and quit, where would he go?
Pushing buttons was all he knew.
There were only so many constants in this world of variables and his office was one of them.
Whether he'd found freedom or whether he'd been condemned to this fate forever
This office was his, and it was his sacred space.
It was where his story forever began and never ended.
One day for sure, one day he'd end it for good.

Stanley stared at the screen once more.

And then he pushed a button.