The pitiless stairs loomed above her, all 24 of them. This would be the day the elevators went out.
She’d have to pull herself up with just the one handrail,
grasping with both hands, willing herself to her fate on the 6th
floor. At the top she would need five
minutes before opening the door, praying that no one would come in and catch
her trying to breathe.
Trying to summon her best self, the one that would make it
easy on the HR girl, she thrashed about for her dignity. It was the only thing left for her to prove. All of her practiced meditation and guided
imagery fled as she began to climb, humming “Mammy’s little baby loves shortnin’
shortnin’, Mammy’s little baby loves shortnin’ bread.”
