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You break from the crowd of gossipping ninnies and bolt for the emergency stairway.   You throw open the heavy door and rush through, pushing the yellow "wet floor" sign out of your way.  You grab the handrail and begin running down the metal staircase.  You fly down the steps, even taking two at a time when timing allows.  You blow past the janitor with a mop in his hand, nearly knocking him over. Your anticipation grows as you descend each floor, reaching a crescendo as you step onto the final flight.  Your heeled foot lands squarely in a small puddle of soapy water.   Immediately your foot shoots out from underneath you.  Your other leg collapses in an awkward bend behind you.  You hear a sickening crack as your back crashes down onto the edge of one stair.  Somehow as your body twists into a pile, the heel of your shoe clobbers you in the back of the head.   You roll forward in a heap, careening down the flight.  You are unable to move any of your appendages and topple down the stairs at the mercy of fate itself.  Just when you think you might survive the tragic spill, your head slams into the floor at the bottom of the stairwell making a nauseating thud.  You can't move.  Your head is resting on it's side and you can see your broken and battered body twisted and mangled in front of you.  You watch as a thick pool of crimson blood pools out from around your head in a glistening lake.  You hear a commotion and the door opens to the foyer.  You hear one scream and then another until that is all you can hear.  Your ears begin to ring and the pool of sticky crimson turns darker and darker until it fades out completely to black.  The screams fade away, as do you. 

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