by Ami Heller

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Scissor Sisters • Running Out

Climbing up thirty-three flights of stairs. Deceiving myself to think it could be a marvelous workout for my legs. On the fifteenth floor breath starts to exhaust. It reminds me of an epic scene from Mad Men. And I keep going. Unlike Roger Sterling and Don Draper, I did not shuck oysters and devour gin martinis at lunch. But nonetheless a growing nauseous sensation starts creeping in. On the twenty-fourth floor I wish I had this song playing. Thinking that would rejuvenate me. Almost there. At thirty-two I can see the end but something similar to a heart or panic attack almost unfolds on the concrete floor. Finally home. A glass of water. Stretching limbs. The ground starts to shake. The walls sway. I figure it might as well collapse. Because I’ve reached the pinnacle. Let it culminate. End.