Maya’s eyes shot open. The room was too bright. Too quiet.
She turned her head, spotting the blinking red numbers on her alarm clock. 7:45 AM.
Her flight was at 8:30.
“Oh my God.”
She flung the covers off and scrambled out of bed, her heart hammering against her ribs. She had set an alarm—three, actually—but in her exhaustion from packing until 3 AM, she must have slept through them all.
No time to brush her hair. No time for breakfast. She shoved her feet into her sneakers, grabbed her suitcase, and bolted out the door.
By some miracle, a taxi was waiting outside her apartment complex, dropping someone off. She waved frantically. “Airport! Please!”
The driver, sensing the desperation in her voice, sped through the city, but time was against her.
8:10 AM. Traffic. Of course.
8:20 AM. The terminal doors loomed ahead. She threw a crumpled bill at the driver and ran.
Her suitcase thumped wildly behind her as she weaved through the crowded airport, dodging slow walkers and apologizing as she nearly knocked over a man with a coffee.
The final boarding call for Flight 1473 crackled over the speakers.
Maya sprinted down the corridor toward Gate C12. She turned the corner just in time to see the automatic doors slide shut with a soft whoosh.
Her stomach dropped.
“Gate’s closed, ma’am,” a security guard said, shaking his head.
“I’m on that flight!” she gasped, still breathless.
The guard hesitated, but rules were rules. The door wasn’t opening again.
Then, just as she was about to accept defeat, the gate agent peeked out.
“Are you… Maya Thomas?”
“Yes! That’s me!”
“We held it for you. Come on.”
Maya didn’t think—she just ran. The second she collapsed into her seat, she exhaled, pressing her forehead against the cool window.
As the plane lifted off, she shut her eyes.
Next time, she’d go to bed early. Maybe.
