The Libraries Elevator

I've grown in the habit of not pushing any floor buttons when I enter an elevator. I walk in with another person, or two or three other people, and I choose amongst the floors they choose, which one seems to fit my fancy most that day. And though I will never see those people again, though our paths will likely not once more intersect, I feel as though they are my comrades.

I feel that we are somehow tied together by a long and flexible string we will never feel or deliberately tug upon. And in those small moments, between floors, I find peace. I find that, amongst the elevators hidden fluorescent lights, stainless steel fixtures, soft dings and worn carpet; I am at once in a place that I have no desire to leave.

Then, the highest or lowest floor selected is reached and by my principle I am forced to exit, at once leaving all that person was, is and ever will become to the fates.

Both in the traffic of life, both going different directions to the same place.

Your move.