Ashley tapped her foot impatiently, watching the elevator's numbers creep upward. Each ding felt like an eternity as her heart raced with urgency. When the doors finally slid open, she bolted out, her sneakers squeaking slightly against the polished floors.
She dashed down the hallway, her breath quick and shallow, until she reached Myra's door. Without hesitation, she began pounding on it. The loud thuds echoed in the quiet corridor, but there was no immediate response. Frustration bubbling, she hit the door again.
Finally, the door creaked open, revealing a disheveled Myra in pajamas, her hair slightly messy, and her eyes heavy with sleep. She rubbed her temples as if warding off a lingering headache.
"Ashley, please tell me this is important," Myra mumbled, her voice groggy.
Ashley, unbothered by the scolding tone, tried to peer around Myra into the room. "Dylan's not here yet?"
