One hour. Michael promised one hour in IKEA. He had finally started calling Banks by her first name and dropped the “miss” all together after several death threats and the threat of tears spilling from her eyes
It was right when they started to leave that the automatic doors closed. The doors closed, no big deal right? They’d just reopen when they got close enough to trigger the motion sensor. Except they didn’t reopen, they wouldn’t budge, and the power flickered and shut off. Michael’s eyes went and Banks shoved on the door. It rattled but wasn’t even close to opening. All around them the residents of Winthrop place began to panic.
Banks wondered for a second if this meant that everyone was in imminent danger. Would people start to turn on each other? When would IKEA turn into the island from The Lord of the Flies or Lost? But nothing really happened. People panicked and yelled, and cried. Michael was a statue, for a solid half hour before he said “excuse me” and walked towards the bed sheets and musical instruments section.
If I’m going to be stuck here I might as well make the most out of things Banks thought. She collected the rest of the chocolate, and some popcorn from the checkout area then headed for the pillow and blanket section. Banks curled up in the blankets and picked out a movie from her i Tunes account to watch until things blew over.
Oddly enough this was a pretty benign thing. And for the first time in months Banks started to feel like herself. She missed her movie nights with Timma, her work shifts with Nathaniel at Jimmy’s, Looking over her art with Maxwell, going out to drop off mail and running into the mail men, and even banging on the wall at in the early morning hours because Michael seriously needed to figure out how sound worked on his piano.For the first time in a long time Banks didn’t think about being dead or wonder what disappearing would be like. But she thought of art and the future. She thought of how she wanted much more out of life.