The hallway was very dark, with the emergency lights on the walls casting a dim and hazy glow, making everything in view appear so unreal.
Jane McCain stood still in her spot.
Allen Rivera waited for a while, seeing no movement, he turned his head to look at her, "What's wrong?"
Jane McCain pursed her lips and whispered like a mosquito, "It's the 20th floor..."
"Yeah, I know." Allen Rivera said, "Hop on."
Jane McCain hesitated for a moment, then slowly climbed onto his back, wrapping her arms around his neck... He wore a thin cashmere sweater over his shirt, which was soft and warm, and through the fabric, she could feel the solid lines of his shoulders and back.
Allen Rivera carried her upstairs, neither hastily nor slowly.
The road ahead was swallowed by darkness, stairs going up one after another, as if they had no end.
