Serenade

by Heather McKenzie

A lock clicks, and the door falls open. A good thing considering there isn’t a handle on this side.

  “Thanks, Chaz. You’re the best.”

  I ease through and leave a small card in the doorjamb to keep it from completely closing. Before I take a step, I eye my surroundings.

  “Do you see any lasers?” Chaz asks.

  “Shh. I need to concentrate.”

  I don’t see any lasers, but that’s what makes them so dangerous. You don’t see them. Not until it’s too late.

  I pull a container of baby powder from my backpack and dump some into my hand. When I fling it out onto the floor in front of me, I see them then.

  Intersecting lines of lasers positioned every foot or so.

  I exhale in a slow rush. I can do this. I can beat this.

  And as long as I don’t think about what these lasers can do to my skin—to my body—I can make it past.

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