Running Through Shifting Doors to a Bakery Bus Stop

Running Through Shifting Doors to a Bakery Bus Stop

I was late for work again, sprinting down the hallway of my office building, but every door I tried opened onto a different floor. Finally I burst into the conference room, panting, and saw Maya – the girl I used to sit next to in chemistry class – standing at the front, holding a stack of papers. She smiled, but her hair was the same as my sister's, and she was wearing the sweater I always wear when I'm nervous. I tried to hand her my coffee, but the cup turned into a handful of keys that slipped through my fingers. She laughed, a little embarrassed, and said, "You always forget something." Then the fire alarm went off, and we both ran out onto the street, where the bus stop was suddenly a bakery. I watched her order a croissant, and when she turned, our eyes met for a second before she vanished into the crowd. I woke up feeling a weird mix of longing and relief, like I’d just missed saying something important.