Darkness was total. It was a thick and heavy blanket over everything.
Then a chime cut through the silence. It was sharp and piercing.
Adam's eyes snapped open. He sat bolt upright in his bed. His heart pounded against his ribs. Beside him his alarm clock blared. Its red digits flashed with an urgent light. The display showed 6:00 AM. The alarm had just gone off.
He stared at the numbers. He felt a familiar jolt of panic. It was a cold rush that started in his stomach and spread through his chest.
"No, no, I have to go now," he said. His voice was a raw croak in the empty room. "I can't be late for work."
He moved with frantic energy. He threw his legs over the side of the bed. The thin mattress squeaked under his weight. He yanked his uniform from the back of a wooden chair.
It was a simple black shirt and trousers. He pulled them on without a thought for the deep wrinkles creasing the fabric.
His small apartment was a single room with a tiny kitchenette in one corner and a narrow door leading to the bathroom.
He ran to that door, his bare feet slapping on the cold floor. He turned on the tap and splashed freezing water on his face. The shock did little to wake him. It only made him feel colder. He ran back out.
His worn backpack was on the same chair. He snatched it and slung it over one shoulder.
Its weight was a familiar burden. He rushed to the front door. His fingers felt clumsy as they fumbled with the lock.
He wrestled with the deadbolt for a second. It finally clicked open. He pulled the door shut behind him and did not look back.
The hallway was dim and smelled of dust. He ignored the elevator and ran for the stairs. He took them two at a time, his footsteps echoing in the quiet stairwell.
He pushed through the heavy main door and burst onto the street. The morning air was cool and crisp. It bit at his exposed skin. He glanced at the large simple watch strapped to his left wrist.
The second hand was sweeping past the top. His movements stuttered to a halt. He stood on the pavement for a brief moment, his breath misting in front of him.
"If I'm late again they'll definitely fire me today," he muttered.
The words were a prayer and a curse. He broke into a full sprint. His worn work shoes pounded on the concrete. The sound was lonely in the early morning quiet.
The bus stop was at the end of the block. He could see the bus. Its headlights cut through the gloom. It was sitting at the curb, its engine rumbling. It was ready to pull away.
He pushed himself faster. He pumped his arms at his sides. His lungs were already starting to burn. He was just yards away. He could almost feel the rough texture of the bus's metal side.
Then the rear lights flashed a bright red.
The bus began to merge into the sparse traffic. He watched it go.
His desperate sprint slowed to a jog. The jog slowed to a walk. Then he stopped completely. He stood there on the edge of the road, panting. The bus turned the corner and was gone.
He clenched his right hand into a tight fist. He punched the empty air in front of him. It was a weak and useless gesture.
"How can this happen?" he shouted. His voice was raw with frustration. A woman walking her dog on the other side of the street glanced at him then hurried away.
"You should have waited for a minute! I'm only one minute late!" A sheen of sweat was on his forehead. It was from the short intense run. But a different kind of cold was spreading through his chest now.
It was the cold of certainty. He knew his manager would not listen to any excuse.
He had been late every single day for the past week. It was a consequence of his life. He worked three different jobs to make ends meet.
He stocked shelves at a grocery store until midnight.
He cleaned office buildings on the weekends. Each job chipped away at his time and his energy. Each one left him more exhausted than the last.
But this hotel job was the one that mattered. He could not fail now.
Adam looked at his watch again. The minute hand had ticked past the one-minute mark. He was already losing time. "I'll have to run through the city today," he decided.
There was no other choice. He reached back with both hands and pulled the loose straps of his backpack. He cinched them tight against his body. He took one deep ragged breath.
He held it for a moment. Then he exhaled in a great gust and launched himself forward. He started running.
He ran for three blocks. The initial panic gave way to a grim rhythm. Left foot, right foot. Breathe in, breathe out. He turned into the city's bustling core. The sidewalks were starting to fill with people.
They were men in suits and women in sharp coats on their way to work. Adam did not slow down. He weaved through the pedestrians.
They were obstacles in his path. He sidestepped a woman with a stroller, earning a sharp glare. He ducked under the outstretched arm of a man reading a newspaper as he walked.
He cut into a narrow alley between two tall office buildings. The air in the alley was thick with the smell of old garbage and cooking grease. This was a shortcut he knew well. He dodged overflowing trash cans.
One was leaking a dark liquid onto the grimy pavement.
He leaped over a pile of discarded wooden pallets. H
e reached a low brick wall that separated the alley from another street. He placed a hand on the damp top, swung his body over, and landed with a heavy thud on the other side. His ankles protested but he ignored them.
He kept moving. It was a continuous forward motion through a maze of backstreets. He ran through hidden passages behind restaurants and shops. He squeezed through tight gaps.
His shoulders brushed against cold brick and metal dumpsters.
He ran and ran. The initial burst of speed was gone. His lungs burned with every breath. A sharp stitch stabbed at his side. His legs felt heavy like they were made of lead. He was completely exhausted. But he did not stop.
His sprint faded to a steady jog. His form was sloppy now. His feet pounded the pavement without grace. But they kept moving. His mind was a blank slate.
There were no thoughts of his manager or his other jobs. There was only the need to move forward. Don't stop. Just keep going.
Finally after what felt like an eternity he saw it. A massive building rose up ahead. It was a tower of glass and steel that gleamed in the morning light. It was a five-star hotel.
This was his workplace.
His job was to carry the luggage of wealthy guests. He delivered their food. He performed other small tasks for them. Seeing the hotel gave him one last burst of energy. He pushed himself.
His jog turned back into a desperate run. He aimed straight for the grand entrance with its polished brass and revolving doors.
The security guard standing by the entrance saw him coming. The guard was an older man with tired eyes. Adam had seen him every morning.
The guard's face showed a flicker of concern. He recognized Adam. He saw the sweat and the panic. Without a word the guard moved quickly. He held one of the large glass doors open.
He cleared a path for him. It was a small act of kindness. It was also a sign. Everyone had been waiting for him. Adam ran past the guard without looking at him. His focus was entirely on getting inside.
He burst into the opulent lobby. The air was cool and smelled faintly of flowers. A huge crystal chandelier hung from the high ceiling. The floor was polished marble that reflected the light.
Standing directly in front of him was his manager, Mr. Davies. He had his arms crossed over the chest of his perfectly tailored suit. He was waiting.
The moment Mr. Davies's eyes locked onto Adam his expression hardened. All warmth drained from his face. It became a cold mask of authority.
Adam skidded to a stop on the slick floor. He was breathing in great gasping gulps. He could not speak. He could not think.
Mr. Davies raised his right arm. He pointed a single unwavering finger toward the entrance Adam had just come through. He was pointing him out. It was a public and final gesture.
Before Adam could say a word, before he could even catch his breath to offer an explanation, the manager spoke. His voice was cold and clear. It carried across the silent lobby.
"You can leave."
Adam's face crumpled. The last of his energy drained away. He felt his whole body sag. He took a hesitant step forward.
His expression was a mess of pleading and exhaustion. His mouth opened to try and explain.
To beg. But no sound came out. Mr. Davies did not wait for one. He simply turned his back on Adam and walked toward his office behind the front desk. The show was over.
The scene shifted. Adam was now walking out of the hotel. He pushed through the same glass door the guard had held for him just minutes before.
His shoulders were slumped. He walked slowly. It was a stark contrast to his frantic arrival. His face was a mask of defeat. The cool morning air felt different now. It was no longer crisp. It was just cold.
"I worked so hard," he said to himself. His voice was a bare whisper.
"And he insulted me in front of everyone and fired me." He had worked for months to get this job.
He had filled out dozens of applications and gone to three interviews. It was a difficult job to secure. Its only flaw was its timing.
Adam woke up at 6:00 AM every single day. On a good day, running this same route would take him between ten and twenty minutes.
The bus would have delivered him to the hotel's front door in five.
His shift started at precisely 6:15 AM. His manager did not tolerate anyone being even one minute late.
For the last week, Adam had been late every single day.
Because of that, he had just lost the best-paying job he had. It paid $10,000.
It was his main source of income. It was the job that held his life together. And now it was gone.
He stood on the sidewalk and watched the city come to life around him, feeling completely and utterly alone.