Racing Down the Hallway to a Conference Room Gym

Racing Down the Hallway to a Conference Room Gym

I was late for the morning meeting at the office, sprinting down the hallway with my coffee in one hand and my badge in the other. The hallway stretched on forever, but the doors kept changing labels—some said "Conference Room A," others "Cafeteria," and a few just read "Lobby" even though I was still on the same floor. When I finally burst into the conference room, the window looked out onto my old high school gym, the bleachers filled with people I hadn't seen in years. My manager, who looked exactly like my college roommate, smiled and asked if I had the quarterly report. I fumbled for my laptop, but the screen showed a map of the subway system I used to ride, with stations I never recognized. I tried to explain that I was in the wrong place, but my voice sounded like two people talking at once. I woke up feeling embarrassed and oddly nostalgic.