As I made my way down the flight of stairs, I remembered I had seen an elevator earlier, on my way up to the cinema. The thought of using an elevator for the first time in my twenty-something years of existence was arousing.
I quickly retraced my steps back up and found the elevator just a yard off the stairwell. The door stood elegantly and shiny and the button panel was inviting.
I stood in front of the silver door for a minute, the crazy and horror stories I’ve once heard about elevators in my primary school quickly replaying in my head.
One short boy used to tell us wild tales back then. The elevator fable particularly stuck to my memory.
“I told my cousin not to press the red button, but he did anyway; saying nothing would happen. The elevator floor opened and he fell into the hollow hall of rotating metal fan below!” I recalled Bolu’s narration.
He said something about holding onto something as he watched his cousin chopped into pieces.
I’m so sure I would have shuddered at that horror narration. How exactly does a ten year old cook up such story anyway? Maybe, just maybe, he heard it from someone else.
I shook my head and pressed the “call-elevator” button on the panel beside the door. “It’s not quite possible!” I concluded.
The elevator bell rang a few seconds later with a “cling” sound; more like “dong” actually. I can’t really recall for sure, but yes, there was a somewhat cool sound as the door opened.
I stepped inside cautiously, one foot ahead of the other. I managed to look back to ensure that no one was watching me walk awkwardly into the elevator. I almost immediately checked the button panel in the elevator for the supposed “killer red button.”
All I saw instead were shiny numbered buttons, one to four. I heaved a sarcastic sigh of relief and laughed at my own apprehension and naivety. I actually believed a ten year old story told by a ten year old loquacious primary school boy.
I was taken by the cute and elegant interior of the elevator. Shiny, silver button panel, brown, polished walls and yes, there was a wide mirror! I almost screamed for joy at the realisation that I could yet take my selfie.
I pressed the button numbered “one” and without even waiting for the elevator door to close, I turned to take my belated mirror selfie.
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