51 Street

I rush into the building the sun pulling me back every step of the way. I run into the elevator, panting, sweating, pressure building in the back of my eyes. I get into the elevator and grope the buttons hoping to press my floor. I succeed in pressing most of them as the elevator stops at almost every floor. "Floor 8," the elevator says to me. I stumble out, sick from god knows what, fall through the door and crawl to my bed, climbing under the blankets and hiding from the light.

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