First Short-short

I’m not doing these in any particular order. I was looking at all notes today, reading over the opening sentences, looking for spins to put on them and this one jumped out at me waving its conclusion and shouting “Me, me! Pick me!” I’ve italicized the prompt itself, and here it is, courtesy of Wingèd Medusa:

As she stood there holding the broken doorknob, she resigned herself to the possibility that this day wasn’t going to get any better. “Aw, crap!” She tried to grab the metal stub that poked its tongue into the room from the door. If she could reattach the knob to the spindle, she would be able to get out of her bedroom and maybe even make it to her new job in time.

The tip of her tongue poked from the corner of her mouth, unnoticed. “Come to Mamma,” she murmured to the ridged metal. It wiggled in the door, but seemed to be holding. She put the open end of the knob on the spindle and pushed gently. A thud came from the carpeted hall on the other side of the door. “Damn you!” She held the knob in her hand and stared at the hole in the door where the other part had been. She thudded her head on the door. “Noooooooo. Please let me out! Please. It’s the best job everrrrrrrrr.” A whining tone had entered her voice. “This so sucks!”

She sat on the edge of the bed for a few minutes, wondering how she was ever going to get out of this stupid bedroom, in the stupid old-fashioned apartment which, until this morning, had been her pride and joy. Her eyes searched the room. There–on the dressing table–a nail file. She bounced from the bed, seized the nail file and dropped to her knees in front of the door. Careful manipulation rewarded her with a faint click and the door swung open.

“Yes!” She pulled it open the rest of the way, flung the nail file at the dresser, and hurried out into the hallway. Her foot came down on the other knob, which rolled away. The movement twisted her ankle and she fell. “DAMMITALLTOHELL!” Pain throbbed up her leg. She almost wept with frustration. The new job in the heart of the city, the big break in the world of business, the realization of her dream–all the hopes were fading fast. She struggled to her feet and hobbled to the living room. What to do? What to do?

She couldn’t walk down to the subway station now, that was for sure. She’d have to call in on her first day and plead sick. She hoped they would be understanding. She clicked on the TV, and reached for the phone and her purse with the business card and number of her new boss. The line buzzed and wouldn’t connect. She tried again. A busy signal. What the heck? She hung up the phone and stared at the TV. The image made no sense. She stared. Flames billowed from the tower, black smoke filled the sky. Confetti, or so it seemed, swirled in the air. The camera angle changed. What movie was this? She turned up the sound.

“A plane has flown into the north tower of the World Trade Center…” The north tower. Her new job, up on the 98th floor. She stared, eyes wide.