Golf Club and The Creepy Killer

There are two of us left at the lab.  It's early evening.  It's dark.

My co-worker, G, packs up. 

Jamie:  I'm about ten minutes behind you but can you please lock me in?

(turn the knob on the door so the code is needed to get into the lab).

G:  Sure.  See you.

About three minutes later I get a text from G:

FYI someone is creepily hovering on the steps

I'm waiting for the second part of the text that says "I'll come back and we can walk out together."  Kind of wondering what level of concern prompted a text but not a rescue.  I write back and ask.

I'm not worried worried.  But I decide that I'll feel more at ease (and potentially appear more intimidating) with some type of defense.

I look around the lab.  Aha!  Golf Club.  Perfect.  Almost poetic.

I'm getting ready to leave and step outside the lab (but not outside the building) to use the restroom.

In the foyer of the building I see the back of a big guy in jeans and a hoodie standing purposelessly

Jamie (thinking):  Holy shit.  It's the killer! (yes, he went from being a creepy guy to the killer).  He's in the building.  Attack?  Get back in the lab.  Krav Maga.  Cross Fit.  Get him in the balls and then the face.  Go for the eyes (this is a split second worth of thinking).

The killer turns around.

It's a co-worker.

I start laughing hysterically.  

And kinda wish he hadn't turned around.