Duggan regained his balance. He was standing in a bathroom; it was somehow familiar. His attacker hadn’t followed him in, just shoved him through. Duggan turned and twisted the bolt on the door, locking it.

His head spun for a moment, and he stepped towards the sink. He twisted the right hand tap, ran his hand under the water and then splashed it up into his face. He stared into the mirror, collecting his thoughts. A sticker on the bottom corner of the mirror caught his eye and he focused on it for a moment.

His head cleared, he turned back to the door. He listened for a moment, his breathing slow and calm. Positioning himself, he unlocked it and pulled it open, ready to deal with the crazy old man. In front of him was an empty hallway. He closed the door, and glanced room. Locking the door once more, he stepped towards another door and pulled on the handle. It didn’t open, seemingly locked. His eyes focused on the lock.

He placed his hands to his forehead, rubbing briefly and then brushed back his hair. Pulling his key ring off his belt, he flipped through it until he found a key labelled ‘Janitorial Master’. The key slid into the lock and disengaged the cylinders smoothly. He pulled the door open, revealing a supply closet.

“I was in the bar, and now I’m at work. What the fuck.” His voice was calm and quiet. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “And it’s Tuesday.”

His phone began to beep as text messages started coming in at a rapid pace. The voice mail indicator flashed on the screen. He had 16 new messages.

He shook his head and went back to the sink, washing his face again.