I work on the ninth floor in a house full of assholes, with whom I do my best to avoid any contact whatsoever – including the lift rides.
I wait patiently in the shadows as people get in and then I`ll make my move. I pretend to be just a tad late, so I could unfortunately call for the next one. I even do my “damn it !” expression. But.
Sometimes I hit the button half a second too soon and the doors, that were almost closed, jump open again. I just stand there, shock written all over my face, lift full of people staring at me and.