Out the doors and down the wide steps to Fifth Avenue, she gulps in air as if she’s been suffocating. Screw this day – right now she just needs home and sleep, such as they are these days. It’s even worth getting fired from this job, such as that is too.
She’s just turning to go back inside, down to the transit tunnel beneath the building,when she senses rather than sees something coming at her from above. The doors in front of her are flickering wildly in and out of view, so she can’t even see what she’s supposed to grab to open them.
All she can do is duck.
This is a Six Sentence Stories installment. The cue was “duck.”