(Instant Transit - Part 3)
Florence stood in front of revolving doors and watched as travelers entered and exited from the other side. “Time to spin the wheel,” she said to herself. Then, with a deep breath and one final sweep of the door she entered its airlock.
Once inside, she hesitated and slowed her steps down to a crawl until time itself could no longer move. The door paused and a calm silence engulfed the passageway. Time stood still inside and her heart waited for the signal to beat.
In the midst of the quietude, her thoughts began to race. What would happen if I stopped? Just stopped? Now. Would everyone return to work on Monday? Would they notice that their morning coffee was missing? Would they prepare the meeting minutes themselves? If I refused to play this board game of Life, would I ever have to sit on another suffocating city bus? Or better yet, I’d never have to eat another dime store deviled ham sandwich again. I’ll never take another cold shower again.
She rested her head against the curved glass wall of the airlock and clutched her butterscotch yellow overnight case. It served as her personal keepsake box and talisman. She found it abandoned in the alley behind the movie theater where she worked. In it she kept her earrings, a Timex wristwatch, a copy of her high school valedictorian speech, several postcards left behind in library books, and an unpaid college tuition bill.
The timelessness she relied upon inside the airlock could no longer wait. A wave of air spilled into it and the door swept her out into the main hall of Terminal 1. The wheel had spun. She must continue on.