Chasing a Neon‑Green Raincoat Driver Through an Endless Hallway

Chasing a Neon‑Green Raincoat Driver Through an Endless Hallway

I woke up late for work and rushed out of the apartment, but the hallway in the building seemed endless. I could hear the elevator ding every few seconds, yet it never arrived. I finally found the stairs, sprinted down, and burst onto the street just as a delivery truck was pulling away. I chased it, but my shoes felt like they were filled with sand, so I could only limp behind it. When I finally caught up, the driver was my old high‑school chemistry teacher, wearing a neon‑green raincoat and holding a giant kitchen knife like a flashlight. He smiled, said, "You’re late for the party," and gestured toward a door that looked like the lobby of my office but was painted bright pink. I tried to open it, but the handle was a phone I couldn't unlock. I woke up in the kitchen, heart racing, coffee already on the table.