It wasn’t the first time this had happened and again I thought to my myself why I took on this career. It didn’t even pay well, the hours were irregular, the customers were always trying to chew my face off. Like now, as I ran as hard as my legs could pump, sweat-damp hair flicking against my forehead.

I checked back over my shoulder and could see the possessed cabinet still chasing after me, knocking some people in the street aside with its doors, swallowing the unlucky ones. Those screams would haunt me forever if I managed to survive this, the struggles as they were devoured by the cabinet, spitting out just their limp, torn clothes. It trundled on, crashing into cars and letterboxes and yet never slowing. This new Lindsey range was sturdy.

I ran and I ran, wondering how best to ask for a pay rise. Maybe the possibility of death should come with a premium?

I looked back one last time; the cabinet was definitely gaining on me.