Running Through the Endless Hallway to Midnight Mystery

Running Through the Endless Hallway to Midnight Mystery

I woke up late for my shift at the downtown coffee shop, so I sprinted down the cracked hallway of my apartment building—only it stretched forever, each door identical and humming a low jazz sax. I finally burst out onto the street, but the city was a mix of the usual office towers and the old movie theater from high school, its marquee flickering "Midnight Mystery". My manager, who also looked like my old English teacher, was waiting with a clipboard, asking why I was wearing a trench coat and a wedding dress over my uniform. I fumbled for my keys, but the keyring was a tangled mess of phone cords. A woman I hadn’t seen since graduation walked by, her face half familiar, half a stranger’s, and whispered, "You still owe me the answer." I tried to explain, but my voice came out as static. The coffee machine sputtered out a single, cold cup that smelled like rain on pavement. I woke up just as the bell above the shop’s door rang, heart pounding, wondering where I left my real keys.