“She had managed to go almost three weeks without being late. Admittedly on two of those days she’d perambulated around the office like someone doing a good imitation of the walking dead – but she’d been timely walking dead, damn it.” ― Michelle Sagara West
Glancing at my watch as I dashed hastily to the lift and pressed the button for the floor that I needed to go to for my patient’s consultation. The doors were about to close when suddenly a hand gripped it with such force to get inside.
As the perpetrator sauntered in unapologetically that not only had they caused me to be late even further, but had managed to knock into me during the process of trying to enter the lift which had sent my patient notes crashing to the floor. My eyes began to glide slowly over this individual.
He looked as if he were in his late seventies; with silver wisps of hair that seemed to cling to his scalp with bald patches noticeably gleaming through. His face wore a flurry of wrinkles making him appear a lot older and he had a delicate frame that he cloaked in baggy clothes with a distinct army style bag slung over his shoulder.
As the lift began to take off and I scrambled to pick up my papers in annoyance there was a jolt and then the lift abruptly stopped midway between the third and fourth floor.
Just great! I thought to myself could this day get any worse… An as if my thoughts could be heard the light within the elevator flickered off.
Weekly Writing Challenge: Flash Fiction