A photograph on the bedside table caught Sam’s attention as he awoke from a hazy slumber. The image of an attractive girl in her early twenties hastened Sam’s transition into reality. He reached for his phone. 9:14. Sam was late. He collected the garments that were scattered across the bedroom floor and leapt into the foreign hallway. An unexpected stairway lead directly to the front door. Sam encountered his shoes at the base of the stairs and quickly completed his outfit. He pushed on the metal lever and leant into the door; it was locked. The only other feature of the handle was a keyhole. Sam looked again at the display on his phone. 9:16. He was very late. He turned and bolted through the living-room in search of a rear exit. French doors lined the back wall of the adjacent kitchen. He made a beeline for the centre and reached for the handle. It was locked as well. The same standard model had been used on both doors. Sam tried several bolted frames before exiting through the kitchen window. He had to smash the glass with a frying pan.
That afternoon Sam called a friend to relate the story. “It’s a little ridiculous, don’t you think?” said Sam. “If there was a fire I could’ve been killed.”
“What’s more ridiculous?” his friend replied. “That, or the word coccyx?”
Sam didn’t know what to say. He’d always used the term ‘tailbone.’
That afternoon Sam called a friend to relate the story. “It’s a little ridiculous, don’t you think?” said Sam. “If there was a fire I could’ve been killed.”
“What’s more ridiculous?” his friend replied. “That, or the word coccyx?”
Sam didn’t know what to say. He’d always used the term ‘tailbone.’