Getaway

Just as I pushed “Up,” the elevator doors opened, and out stepped a guy in a tweed overcoat, buttoned, collar up. A hospital gown peeked out below the coat, barely covering the spindly bare knees, and bright yellow no-slip socks covered his feet. He shot me a guilty look, then broke into a trot as he hustled across the lobby toward the doors. 

“Wait!” I shouted, as he exited into the winter sunshine. “Stan!” 

The guard behind the lobby desk followed Stan with his eyes, then turned to me. 

“No worries,” he said. “Happens all the time. We’ll get ‘im.”