Endless Hallway to Grocery Store Bus Stop

Endless Hallway to Grocery Store Bus Stop

I was late for the morning train, sprinting down the hallway of my apartment building, but the hallway kept stretching forever. I finally burst out onto the street and realized the bus stop was actually the lobby of the grocery store I shop at every Saturday. The cashier was my old high school math teacher, but she looked half‑human, half‑robot, scanning my ticket with a blinking eye. I tried to explain that I was supposed to be at work, but the doors opened onto my office, which now had the layout of my childhood bedroom—posters on the walls, the same squeaky floorboards, and my dad's old recliner where my desk should be. I sat down, opened my laptop, and the screen showed a map of the city that was overlaid with a subway map from a different country. I felt a mix of panic and weird calm, then the alarm went off and I woke up just as the bus—actually a grocery cart—rolled past.