Mismatched Shoes and the Endless Subway Turnstile

Mismatched Shoes and the Endless Subway Turnstile

I woke up late for work, sprinting down the hallway of my apartment building, but every door I tried was locked. I finally got out onto the street and realized my shoes were mismatched—one sneaker, one high‑heel. I ran to the subway, but the turnstiles were a long, endless corridor that kept stretching. When I finally got on the train, it was packed with people I hadn't seen in years—my high school math teacher, my old roommate, and a neighbor I only ever waved at. They all stared at me as if I’d done something wrong. I tried to explain, but my voice came out as a whisper. The train stopped at a station that looked like the grocery store near my office, and I realized I’d left my badge and wallet on the kitchen counter back home. I woke up just as the train doors were closing.