My briefcase slammed painfully against my leg, every jolting step thudded through my feet and chest and into my head. The pain thrummed steadily, pressing on my temples and constricting even more my shuddering intakes of breath.

I shouldered my way through a sea of people, businessmen talking into their cell phones, harried mothers trying to control their screaming children, teenagers nodding their heads to the music flowing through their headphones. A train whistled up to the platform, and a throng of people detached themselves from the main herd and stepped into it. I hurried on.

Waves of panic splashed around my skull, I glanced at my watch and swerved, avoiding an elderly man with a Zimmer frame and instead bumping into a woman carrying an armful of papers, which she dropped. I ignored her and carried on, her insults ringing in my head.

From behind me came screams. I looked around and saw a gap appearing in the crowd. A man was walking along the platform, brandishing a gun. He caught sight of me and quickly began to move towards my now absolutely still figure. He flashed his badge and yelled out, “Stay there! Stay where you are, you are under arrest!”

At his shouts, he crowd snapped. As if by a single animal instinct, they ran away from the gun, scampering to the sides like startled rabbits. I stood still and waited as the man advanced. Running my fingers down the crease on the side, I popped the first catch and the second, without him noticing anything; his eyes were fixed on my face as I worked in my hand. He yelled again, “put down the briefcase please.” I lowered it to the ground, my hand sitting comfortably inside.

As his eyes widened and his arm rose, I pressed the button, and everything, like a puddle on a hot day, evaporated.