Hey—It’s Toffer.
I had thirty seconds, maybe less.
Estimated read time: 1 minute
No map. No backup. Nothing telling me what to do when the door won't open.
Just a blinking red timer, and the feeling that if I hesitated even once, it was over.
I rattled the handle. Dead.
Kicked the frame. Solid.
Checked my pockets: one busted pen and a receipt with half a phone number.
Good enough.
This wasn’t about the door.
It never is.
It was about whether I freeze, or I move.
Whether I wait for a better plan, or become the plan.
I jammed the pen into the latch and leaned in hard.
A crack. A give.
A breath.
The door didn’t open because I asked nicely.
It opened because I stopped asking.
I didn’t look back.
Not at the timer.
Not at whatever was about to catch fire behind me.
Sometimes I don’t need more time.
I just need to stop pretending I’m trapped.
Your Friend in Time,
Toffer