A Flash Fiction: Floors

It was evening and he had a whole night’s task ahead of him. “I have nothing better to do, so I might as well get started,” he said to himself. Grabbing a broom and a basket, he went on to pick up the trash the students left behind that afternoon. From one room to another, he went and did the same thing over and over again. Open, turn the lights on, pick up trash, turn the lights off, close. Routinary.

Until he reached the fifth floor. 

And realized he should have started from the top floor down. He is afraid of the dark, after all. 

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