In this moment I heard clicking of heels. The sound got louder and tiny needles began stabbing my eardrums. I held the door and looked back over my shoulder. A young woman was pacing swiftly toward the elevator. She was dressed in a light blue shortsleeved shirt and black above the knee skirt. She looked all business, obviously worked in some of the big offices nearby. I pushed the door wide open and the girl slid past me, entering the elevator. I smelled her perfume – delicate aroma of fresh flowers.
“Thanks,” she said with a gasp, then scanned the tight cell squeamishly.
“What floor?” I asked, pulling the wooden grate closed.
“Fifth.”
I pressed the worn button and the elevator sprang to life. It was moving slowly, jingling from time to time. Nostalgia overwhelmed me, I remembered the elevator of the building I lived in as a child. Back then I liked using it although our flat was on the second floor.
“Tomblike thing,” she said matter-of-factly and fixed her eyes on the ceiling.
“But it works, that’s important,” I answered. My gaze slid around her figure. She was 5’3’ tall, had nicely rounded forms and cute face. I doubted she weighed more than 110 pounds. Her long black hair spilled freely over her shoulders.
The elevator creaked , and then stopped between the fourth and the fifth floor. There was a strange humming sound. The girl’s eyes bulged and she dug her fingertips nervously into her small purse. Her chin shot up angrily. I mumbled, reaching out to press the button again.
“That tops it!” she exclaimed, her voice trembling with anger, then leaned back on the wall and sighed.
The elevator trembled for a brief moment, then plunged down. I felt my body getting light as a feather. My feet took off the floor and everything before my eyes grew blurry. The girl was screaming; I saw her flailing her arms like a puppet. And then a monstrous hit ensued; parts of the torn boarding grazed my left cheek. I collapsed like a rock on the floor. The light died out, for a moment my consciousness died out too.
Shadows were dancing in the darkness. I felt sick, and my shoulder hurt. I stirred, but then realized that I’m lying on my side, and that I’m stuck. Something was pressing my left arm. I remembered that I’m not alone as I heard soft weeping, resembling animal’s whine. I didn’t see the girl, the darkness was absolute. Then my eyes managed to discern a vague light spot, probably her shirt.
“Are you OK?,” I asked. My voice had become hoarse and lisping.
The weeping stopped. She sniffed.
“Been better,” she muttered tremblingly and moaned. “Gosh, the lift fell!”
“It’s a miracle we survived,” I said and rose slightly.
“Wait, wait! Be careful, that’s my leg!” she squealed. It was not until then that I realized it was her leg pressing my arm. I got hold of the heel of her shoe, which had stabbed my shoulder. While I was drawing it carefully aside, my cheek brushed against her calf.
“I have never been stabbed with a shoe heel.”
“Sorry, I normally don’t flail my legs. Oh, it’s so tight here!
The fact that I had survived made me feel strange.
“No need for apologies. If you knew such thing would happen, you would have probably put on ballet shoes.”
“Of course,” she said, giggling.