Sprint through the hallway to a subway platform

Sprint through the hallway to a subway platform

I was late for the morning meeting at the office, sprinting down the hallway that seemed to stretch forever. My badge wouldn't swipe, and every door I tried opened onto the same tiny kitchen with a coffee machine that kept spilling. I realized I was still in my pajamas, but the people around me were all in suits, staring at me like I was the odd one out. I tried to find the conference room, but the corridors kept looping back to the lobby, where a familiar face—my high school chemistry teacher—was chatting with the receptionist. He asked me if I remembered the lab experiment where we mixed the wrong chemicals and the beaker exploded. I panicked, looking for my phone to call someone, but every pocket was empty. Finally, I burst through a door that should have led to the break room, only to find the subway platform, the train doors closing as I reached for the handrail. I woke up just as the train hissed away, heart pounding, coffee still warm in my mug.