You hurry, and you realise that you’re splashing. The water’s encroached as far as the front of the desk. There’s nothing you can do to save the furniture, and nothing you’d want to do. You’ve got more important things to worry about. You open the folder and start quickly leafing through it, looking for a list of emergency contacts.
It’s all there. It’s all organised, alphabetically. You still don’t quite know who to call. You glance up as you dither. There’s a flowing brown shape against the front doors: the water level inside might only be enough to cover the carpet, but outside it’s waist height. How did it get that deep, that quickly? Where’s all the water coming from? The doors… they’re not going to hold, are they? A tidal wave is going to come through any second now, and you’re going to be swept away.