4/16/2007

Claustrophobia

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The door closes. She pushes the button and nothing happens. Number two doesn’t light up. The wood creeks. The mice skitter across the worn down shed. The floor doesn’t shake. A sardonic laugh escapes her lips. She’s sorry. She’ll be a good girl. She won’t talk back. Not now. Not here. She must learn her lesson. Lock the door. Her weight shifts from her left to her right foot, and she suddenly feels her hair clinging to the back of her neck. It’s hot. Midsummer’s heat is beating down on the building and she can’t get the fresh air. She’s scared but this has to be her imagination. 10-years-young. She hits the emergency call button. She bangs on the door. Did they leave her? Forget about her? They won’t come. and just then the elevator moves. “What’s your location?” bellows into the restricted air space. “Sorry the elevator was stuck but I’m moving now.” Foolish child. A long pause and an annoyed voice replies, “Have a good day, ma’am.”

1 comments:

mooce said...

I LOVE IT! I LOVE IT! I LOVE IT!