November 14, 2016

I had woken up in a room full of people in front of an elevator. I quickly stood up, gathered my things, and rushed into the cramped elevator.

The door wouldn’t close. Everyone inside and outside the elevator was staring at me as I figured that something was wrong with my presence. I slowly took a step out, thinking that I must have been leaving too early. As soon as I got to the middle of the pale-blue room, I jumped back into the elevator to make sure that I had cancelled the floor that I called before getting out.

Realizing that my floor request had already been cancelled, I took a few paces into the now empty room once more. I checked my watch and noticed that it was past 14:14. I was late. Very late. The elevator was already gone.

I had an art class today and I knew that there was going to be substitute teacher. What I didn’t know however was whether or not class was going to be held at the same address. I looked at their business card and called the number. No answer.

I heard a hissing noise from around the corner and followed it until I was standing by a sliced open pipe. I tried to sniff the opening for signs of gas. “Should I report this?” I wondered. I suddenly remembered that I had forgotten to press the button to call for an elevator.

While waiting for the elevator to come back up, I looked at the half-finished mural on the wall. A red rose was in the process of being framed by a black border.