The Hallway

The hallway stretched ahead of me, only one person between me and the door. She was treading lightly across the cement, heading the same direction I was, black backpack bouncing with each step. I move more quickly than she, and begin to close the gap between us unintentionally.

The smooth stucco walls of this portion of the hallway stretch only five feet in front of me. The girl has already stepped past the gaping maw where two doors used to be to the second stage of the hallway, with its rough cinderblock walls. She reaches the door before I even step over the old, no-longer threshhold between the once-two hallways, now one. As the bar clicks, the door opens, I look at the walls, note the differences and wonder why they joined the hallways this way.

When I look forward again, she is captured in the perfect silhouette. She holds the door open to the bright sunlight, and as I watch, turns to look over her shoulder. She contemplates holding the door for me, I move forward, but she moves on. I slow my pace.

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