Fire Alarm

The fire alarm sounds. Its piercing shrill cuts me to my primeval self: the flight or fight response takes over and, for a moment, my haste is ready to run through my elderly work colleague in its path towards the exit. If necessary.

Whatever it takes.

And then the mist descends, my ears adjust and I realise the folly of my body’s snap judgement. But somehow it leaves me on edge. My aged acquaintance and I look at each other slightly differently for a moment, before we return to civilisation.