I can see her inching her way around the building from my position in the tower. She’s pressed up against the wall, presumably to avoid being seen by cameras or guards. She stops at the sound of a truck going by on the overpass. After checking in both directions, she begins her slow progress toward the door.
It’s not my job to protect the perimeter of the campus. I am solely responsible for the security of the inner square. Others patrol the boundaries, watch the cameras, keep the city from intruding on our space. I am not responsible for this woman.
I shouldn’t even know she’s there. This tower isn’t in my zone. This isn’t even my shift. I’m supposed to be on break in the kitchen right now. Thirty minutes for food, four hours for sleep. I’m not supposed to be here.
The woman, despite several interruptions from traffic on the road just beyond the fence, has reached the door. She waits, motionless, at the edge of the frame. There’s no need to worry. That door is locked and bolted several times over. Long ago, when I first arrived here, I learned that the hard way. She won’t get in there.
Footsteps crunch on the stairs below me. Someone is coming.
*7/17/17 prompt: aversion, industry, virtue
(This is one of those prompts that happened word by word. I’m not sure where this is coming from or where it is going, but it was interesting to write.)