Endless hallway sprint to a holographic latte schedule

Endless hallway sprint to a holographic latte schedule

I was late for work again, sprinting down the hallway of my apartment building, but the hallway kept stretching. Every door I passed was the same beige paint, yet the numbers were wrong—there was a 12B where my 3rd floor should be. I finally burst into the lobby, only to find the concierge desk merged with the coffee shop from the corner, the barista’s apron over a security badge. I tried to order a latte, but the machine spat out a tiny holographic screen showing my schedule for the day, and it flickered to a different week. My coworker Maya was there, but she looked like my high school math teacher at the same time, her voice a mix of both. She handed me a set of keys that felt like my old house keys, then asked if I’d seen my phone. I searched my pockets; the phone was a sleek tablet glowing with a map of the city that didn’t exist. I woke up just as I reached for it, heart pounding, and realized I was still in my pajamas, late for the real meeting.