Stranded // Preity & Declan
@preity-malhotra
Declan was in the midst of sending an email to the CFO of Sinclair Industries when the fire alarm sounded. Throughout his years of apartment living, he’d never encountered such a notice he actually needed to follow. In New York, sirens went off day in and day out, but other than some guy down the hall burning a bagel, nothing much had ever happened. Now, however, the alarm sounded all throughout the hallway, and he knew he had little other choice than to do as it commanded. Already dressed from the day, he grabbed his winter coat from the hook by the door on the way outside and meandered along with others down the many flights of stairs it took to get to the main level of the building.
As he reached the front doors, a young woman hurried beside him, and he held the door open for her, before passing outside, himself. Not sure if there was a designated meeting place for fire safety, he went in the direction she did, spying a group of residents huddled together nearby. “I hope there’s not a true fire,” he commented aloud, thinking about how he hoped a laptop was smoking or something of the sort. The last thing he needed at university was for his residence to go down in flames. With any luck, this wouldn’t last too long.