Sarah was tired. The days were long, and they slipped into nights that were even longer. All her effort had been placed into a basket of weak shelled dreams. She was starting to give up.
Her car had broken down. The bus never came, so she was forced to walk home. Puddles had littered the road side and pavement. The remains of the downpour that had continued from the early hours of the night until a few minutes ago. The grey skies still threatening to open up any second. Her tights and feet were soaked from the splashes cars sent flying in her direction. Anywhere her damp coat didn’t cover was dark with rainwater.
She was mumbling in her internal monologue, knowing that if she cursed everything out loud people would judge her. If anything was more annoying than the weather, it was people. From the people who sent her unsubtle glares on the bus to her boss that seemed to want to build a pyramid with a team of twelve people, she could do without them all. Her mother had called her yesterday, and being her couldn’t help but bring up her relationship status. Putting her in a foul mood that was worsened by everything else.
The more she cursed everything for making her life terrible, the more drained she felt. Her mind slowly became blank, it drifted between unconscious thoughts not focusing on anything, like a broken camera. She pushed through the heavy door to her apartment block. The shelter from the threat of rain was nice. Sarah began to climb the stairs, her feet tired and aching with each step.
Somewhere between the first and second floor, Sarah missed a step and fell onto the landing. The rain was drumming against the glass window that spanned the stairwell of the building. The fall had definitely left her with bruises. The force of falling had taken the air out of her. She sat up, sitting there leaning against the hand rail. As she waited to get her breath back, she looked between the floors. If she looked upwards the second floor landing stood stretching into corridors where her apartment lied. If she looked down it was a bunch of apartments that she’d only seen people leave and enter a few times. She didn’t know any of them, and they didn’t know her. They were just reduced to ‘they’. No names, or indenties, just a hostile title. She was just another stranger in the building.
She was between two floors. Too far up the stairs to still be on the first floor, too far down to be classed as on the second floor. It was a fitting metaphor. She was always in between. Stuck between two choices,two thoughts, two homes, two dreams. She never truly belonged anywhere. She couldn’t help but wonder how many people got trapped between two floors. Or two anything. The grand old Duke of York had 10,000 men.
And when they were up,
They were up.
And when they were down,
They were down.
And when they were only half way up,
They were neither up nor down.