Chasing the Subway Train Through a Coffee‑Scented Hallway

Chasing the Subway Train Through a Coffee‑Scented Hallway

I woke up late for work, sprinted to the subway, but the platform was a long, dim hallway that kept stretching behind me. I could see the train lights at the far end, but every time I ran, the tiles turned into a kitchen floor and the smell of coffee filled the air. I tried to pull out my phone to check the time, but it was a tiny notebook with someone’s handwriting – my old high school friend Alex’s name on the cover. I called out his name, and he appeared at the far end, wearing my boss’s suit and holding a stack of reports. He smiled, then looked confused, as if he didn’t recognize me. The train doors opened, and I stepped onto a moving escalator that led into the office lobby instead of the platform. My coworkers were waiting, all staring at me, but I couldn’t find my badge. I felt a knot in my stomach, half embarrassed, half desperate to catch the train that was now disappearing into the ceiling.