Taking the High Ground

Hallway carpet got monotonous fast. I ditched the welcome mat and ducked past a heavy fire door propped open by a brick. Found a concrete stairwell echoing with every distant door slam. Better yet, the iron railing offered an express route up. I hoisted myself onto the bottom strut, shimmied past a peeling yellow inspection sticker, and took a seat on the cold painted steel pipe of the landing railing. Below me, five flights spiraled down like a concrete whirlpool. People down there rushing to punch a clock or grab coffee didn't even glance up. Suits me. I kicked my heels against the metal spindle and claimed the whole echo chamber.