Daily Prompt: Elevator
by michelle w. on May 24, 2013
Fiction writers: You’re stuck in an elevator with an intriguing stranger. Write this scene.
Non-fiction writers: You’re stuck in an elevator with a person from your past. Write this scene.
My first appointment with my, soon-to-be, publisher was at 10:00 a.m. I dressed professionally and took a taxi to the Cedar Building on 21st Cedar Street. I waited, patiently, for an elevator to open in the lobby. My publisher’s office was on the 10th floor of the 12 story building.
Finally, a door opened and I walked into the elevator. Just as the doors were beginning to close, I heard a man’s voice yelling, “Hold the doors, please! Hold the doors!” I quickly mashed the ‘Door Open’ button and the man rushed into the elevator.
He was immaculately dressed in a three-piece suit and tie. His blonde hair and blue eyes made the deep tan on his face stand out. I looked closely and it looked like an all-natural tan to me. He cleared his throat and I realized I had been staring, probably with my mouth open too. I blushed and asked, “Which floor,” as I readied myself to push a button.
“10th floor, please.”
We both laughed as we noticed we were going to the same floor. We rode the rest of the way in silence. He was checking messages on his iPhone. I was wondering what else was on the 10th floor besides the publishing offices? When the elevator stopped on the 10th floor, he held the doors and motioned for me to go first. I realized we had both turned left upon exiting the elevator.
I passed a door marked ‘Employees Entrance’ and headed on to the next door, which was the publishing office. I heard the previous door open and close. “Great,” I thought, “He probably works for the publishing company.”
I entered the publishing office and spoke to the receptionist, telling her my name, my appointment time, and the name of the publisher I was supposed to meet with. She nodded and told me to take a seat in the waiting area. I found a magazine and sat to flip through it.
“Miss Geil’s ?”
I looked up and saw the very same man from the elevator. He held out his hand and said, “Welcome to The Willow Publishing House. I’m Mr. McLain. I believe we have an appointment.”
I nodded my head and shook his hand numbly. Then he escorted me to his office.
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