Friday, February 26, 2016

Just in Time for Death or Love

“Why is it,” asked Thompson, “that we never appreciate our greatest strengths?”

Logan wrinkled his brow in thought. “I suppose it's because they become so much a part of us that we can't imagine life without them.”

They were on their way up, from the 17th to the 63rd floor of an 80-floor building. Thompson gazed ahead at the unmoving, metallic doors that held them safely inside the elevator car. It felt secure, like a place where he belonged. It felt like home, but then, his grandfather had been an elevator operator back in the day. Not that he remembered his grandfather well—not that one, anyway.

His other grandfather, on his mother's side, had been a shoe salesman. But somehow Thompson never felt as comfortable in his shoes as he did in an elevator. It was one of life's great mysteries to him, a puzzle he would likely not solve before death, which he was sure wouldn't come in an elevator—although wouldn't that be ironic?

He smiled at the thought. It didn't go unnoticed by Logan, who raised the brow that had previously been wrinkled.

“Do you have something to say?” asked Logan.

“Ever listen to Aerosmith much?”

“Can't say as I have, why?”

“No reason. I was trying to remember some lyrics to one of their songs.”

“Which song? Maybe I know it.”

“I think it's called 'Death in an Elevator' or something like that.”

Logan stared at Thompson and took a quick glance around their shared metallic box. It felt smaller than it had when they first entered.

“You mean 'Love in an Elevator'?” said Logan.

“Yeah, that's the one.”

Ding! The doors opened. They had arrived at the 63rd floor, just in time for death or love.

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