She’s gone for no more than a minute, but it feels like an eternity. My senses go into overdrive. I’m suddenly keenly aware of every sound, every sight, every smell.
The lingering scent of cigarette smoke and floral cologne in the air. Graffiti carved into the concrete wall. The buzz of electricity and elevator cables behind the walls.
I’m so immersed in my momentary superpowers that I jump when the door flings open. I have to stifle a scream—it’s just Jessica.
“This floor looks fine. We might be able to risk the elevators.”
“I thought you said they’d be expecting that?”
“We won’t ride all the way to the ground floor,” she tells me. “We’ll get off on the second and take it from there.”
Since I’m in no position to argue, I follow her through the door.
This floor looks almost identica
