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.