There was something about elevators that bothered her. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. It wasn’t fear that it would get stuck and she might starve to death. It wasn’t fear that it would fall and she would die a horrible death. So what was it about elevators that concerned her?
It was just a machine driven pulleys and ropes. True, it was a containment device but then so was a car or a room for that matter. This one just moved in a vertical manner.
She glanced over the surface of the one that she was in. The one that had set dread in the center of her chest. It had finger smudged metal paneling and a filthy drop ceiling. There was smut ground into the corners and the square of carpet underneath felt moist. The smell of strong perfume and old cigarettes was only slightly off putting.
So what was it about elevators?
She was just trying to get to floor 23 but the elevator doors opened on floor 9. A single man in a slightly disheveled suit stepped in and pushed the button for floor 26. He leaned against the back wall and she could feel his eyes all over her. She could just make out the smirk painted across his lips as he folded his arms.
This other passenger, this man, began talking at her, “Twenty third floor, huh? Looking to get hired, is that it?” He sidled right up behind her, “You’re pretty enough. I could probably help you with that.”
She could feel his breath on the back of her neck. Her mouth slowly curled into a frown but understanding lit up in her mind. That’s right, it’s not elevators. It’s being trapped in a small room with assholes that bothered her.
And assholes were everywhere.