PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson
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Jeffrey stood at the bottom of the steps confronted by a barrier and closed doors.
“The bloody thing’s closed. Dodged that one,” he said aloud.
He was turning to leave when he felt a hand on his shoulder and heard her say, “Where do you think you’re going?”
He gritted his teeth behind his lips, then choked out, “It’s closed, Marcia”
“Keeps folks from sleeping on the landing. I can unlatch it and have a key.” She pulled him up the steps.
“I don’t want to dance,” he complained.
“Come on. It’s fun.” The gleam in her eye was evil.
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