I stumbled as I reached the elevator doors. Holding my sweat pants up with my left hand I put my right arm up and stopped awkwardly against the wall. My finger was wet with anxious sweat and it slipped off the plastic button.

Where was the elevator? It should have been here by now. The stairwell was in front of me. Maybe I should run. There was no way I would make it. I couldn’t possibly go down ten flights of stairs. I would die. They would catch me. I might not have a choice.

The elevator dinged. I pressed into the small elevator and felt it sag as I turned towards the panel. Through big gasping breaths I reached for the lobby button. Through big gasping breaths I reached for the lobby button. My body was lurching now as each intake of air became harder to hold onto. My oafish hand hit the button for the third floor at the same time as it hit the lobby button.

I tried to gather myself as the doors closed. I needed to get my breathing under control. My legs were trembling. I felt exhausted. I needed to get out of the building. I didn’t have any strength left to run. I had to. I needed to get out of the building. The lobby was going to be crowded. I would have to push my way through the people and get into the street.

I was still breathing heavily when the door opened on the third floor. A small group of people saw me leaning in the corner, covered in sweat, my body convulsing with each breath. They made no attempt to board. I reached for the button to close the doors and missed. They closed anyway.

My body was giving up. I was no longer simply leaning in the corner. I was sitting on the ground. In one second the doors would open and I needed to get out. This wasn’t a time to feel tired and unable; it was a must to get up. The doors opened. My limbs wouldn’t obey.