Scrubbing her hands over her face, she replayed the voicemail. Listening for clues that said otherwise, she accepted that nothing had changed. She was to comply, absolutely.

Her chair creaked protest as she thumped one heel, then the other, on the heavy wood desk. Lamplight illuminated a circle on the ceiling, flooded the desk with sickly yellow light. Her hands lay in surrender on her lap.

She’d hoped for compromise. Release meant she could cut her losses, move on. They demanded their  pound — and more — of flesh.

Clenching her fists, she turned to the window.

The fire escape beckoned.

© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2021)

Carrot Ranch Prompt (03/25/2021): In 99 words (no more, no less), write an escape. It can be daring or subtle. Who is escaping from what and why? Go where the prompt leads!