Wallpaper. That's what they called this sort of thing. Visual wallpaper. As if there was any other sort. Not noticing what's right in front of you.
Graham grabbed the fire extinguisher from its wall mount, the same fire extinguisher he had seen every day of his school life but had never really seen. Hands shuddering, he turned the canister over, trying to read the instructions, written in airline emergency hieroglyphs, tracing paper people being calm, so calm with their blank mannequin faces.
The thin black hose he gripped tightly, squeezing its shakily while trying to stay calm. There was a pin to pull, not the sturdy iron hoop he imagined a grenade would have, but rather a thin coil of wire, the same as you'd find on so many cheap key-rings. Graham pulled the pin, running, running all the while.