oneshots | 18+

night-shift | 18+

The doors open with a soft ping, and I enter the lift.

With one hand holding my phone and bag and the other holding the grocery bag, I shift my weight on one leg, and with my left knee, I try to press the button for the eighth floor.

My tote bag on my shoulder slips and gets caught on my wrist, where I had put the handle of the bag of groceries as support. The already weak handle of the plastic bag makes a tearing sound like it's going to fall apart.

Still, I try to push the button, and I finally manage it. With a sigh of relief, I fall back against the black wall of the lift and close my eyes.

I am so tired after working overtime. My colleagues decided to leave me alone with all the mess in the office after we were ordered to redo all the paperwork, which was destroyed by a storm a week ago. Luckily, no one was hurt after the big tree fell through the big glass window. But since I am the youngest and newest at the office and also too afraid to speak up, people tend to walk all over me.

With my eyes still closed and music in my ears, I try to relax. But, of course, I had forgotten to charge my AirPods this morning, and the music abruptly stops with an ugly and loud beep.

When I open my eyes, I realise the lift hasn't moved yet. The door opens again, and a man enters.

His black hair is drenched, and he curses under his breath as he looks down at the umbrella he is holding, which has seen better days. It's completely destroyed, and I thank the heavens that I didn't get caught in the storm.

The man turns to push a button when he notices me. He lifts his eyebrows for a second before he smiles, pushes a button—the eleventh floor—and turns away again.

I stared at him for a second, trying to figure out if I had met him before. He has probably just moved here. My phone lights up, and it's a notification in the WhatsApp family chat.

Right, it's grandma's eighty-fifth birthday, and my brother always has to congratulate her—or anyone—at midnight because he has to be the first. I roll my eyes with a smile and send her birthday wishes as well.

When I look up again, the man is staring at me. I smile awkwardly. He opens his mouth when a sudden, loud noise interrupts him. The lights go out.

The lift got stuck.

For a second, it's silent.

"I just wanted to ask if something is wrong with this thing. But I guess that explains it," the man says, and a second later he turns on the torch on his phone.

"It happened a few times before. This is my second time getting stuck. Last time, it took them an hour to get us out, but in this weather, it will probably take longer." I laugh awkwardly.

He groans in annoyance before he shines the light on the emergency button. He pushes it and waits for an answer. It takes fifteen minutes to get an answer, but they tell us the same thing I had predicted: due to the storm, it takes them at least two hours, maybe even longer, till they can rescue us.

—

It has been an hour already, and we haven't talked much, except exchanging names, where we came from, and what we are doing for work.

His name is Kai; he moved to London five years ago, is originally from Shanghai, and works as a security guard at a fancy hotel nearby. His shift starts in less than three hours, and even though he has already notified his boss about his possible delay, he is stressed.

"So, Liana, tell me, what are you going to have for supper later?" Kai asks after another ten minutes of silence.

"Pizza."