8
No Way Out
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Come on already.
The Scandinavian took an age to walk down those stairs. Every step a full second. A second extra for my hands to hold on. My fingers to struggle for grip on the varnished wood. I hung in plain sight for anyone on the ground floor to see. Luckily for me, they were all in other rooms, finishing up. The guy plodded lazily, bin bag in hand, until he reached the foot of the stairs. I saw him through the gaps in the steps. He stopped to pop some chewy in his mouth.
Meanwhile, I clung on desperately, legs dangling five feet off the empty hallway space beneath the stairs. I’d squeezed through the gap between steps, just in time. My hands were aching from the pressure, slipping a little further each time. I had no choice but to hang tough and q
