Breathlessly she waits, halfway up, one more flight to go.
This huffing and puffing has got to stop. This time, though, just for a split
second, a very scary feeling, a thought: what if I can’t catch my breath. She
never went there before. What if her daughter isn’t home and she’s trapped here
in the stairwell. More scary thinking.
Next thought: I have to reduce my weight. I’ve known it for
a long time and done nothing about it. Well, not nothing exactly. I’ve tried.
This breathless thing should be a signal to double my efforts.