Orange

two

I want to disappear. 

For the ground to swallow me whole.

I am mortified but I can't seem to look away from him.

His eyebrows are raised in amusement but his mouth is fixed in a dissatisfied curl. I feel my heart sink a little, disapproval never feels great, to be honest. He is obviously not impressed by my outburst, and honestly, I cannot blame him. I must have looked insane, completely bonkers. 

He doesn't look away, but continues to stare at me with a disgusted expression. I feel as though I am being judged, and it is not a nice feeling. His nose is scrunched up like he has smelt something distasteful, like a rotten orange. I know that distinct smell from experience, having found a three-month-old orange in the bottom of my school bag once. I had to throw out the bag and all my books. The smell lingered in my nostrils for weeks afterwards. 

I try so hard to muster up a glare, who does he think he is, going around judging people? But I am finding it very hard since he looks like a male model draped against the wall. All moody looking with his black jeans and white shirt, army jacket slung over one shoulder. He looks so flawless it hurts. It makes me want to slap the pretty out of him, and that look from his face.

His eyebrows furrow and his eyes narrow, and I realise that I am openly staring at him. 

Oh geez.

I draw strength from my inner strong independent woman and face him squarely. She comes to the surface, making me straighten my spine, cross my arms over my chest and raise my eyebrows at him expectantly. 

Now, usually when I draw upon my strong inner woman people back down and look away or leave me alone. But he just continues to stare at me, which is a little unsettling but I hold my ground. With a deep, steadying breath, I narrow my eyes at him and even find myself do a sassy little head shake like some sass queen. 

Finally, with a curl of his lip, he turns away. A surge of pride fills my chest and I can't help the little victory smile that slips through my hard façade.

I look away from him, only a few meters slightly to his left, but continue to watch him from the concert of my eye. He takes out his phone and fiddles with it for a few moments. The lights above the elevator begin to light up, and I feel my spirits soar with each number. I begin to fantasise about my meat pies, may be I will heat them up in the microwave. There will be a microwave... right?

The 'ding' of the elevator is a more than welcome sound, and, in my excitement, I almost run to its sanctuary. I don't even bother with the cool girl façade anymore. I am back to being the goofy bean I have always been. Still grinning, I punch in my floor and lean back against the cool steel wall behind me. I let out a little squeal when I hear the doors begin to close, and do a little victory dance. I can taste victory on my tongue, and it tastes like meat pies.

"Umm." A deep voice interrupts my victory dance and I stop mid fist pump.

My blood runs cold, and floods from my face in a rush. I turn slowly, heart beating as fast as a hummingbird's wings, to see the rotten orange guy standing across from me in the elevator, his face in full judgement mode. He saw my dance.

Heck.

"7" He is pointing towards the buttons beside me, and it takes me a little too long to realise that he wants me to put in his floor. With a hysterical giggle, I push the button and the elevator becomes scarily quiet, save the whir of the engine. 

I try to play it off, shoving my hands into my jeans pockets and try not to look too mortified. He looks away with an eye roll l as I edge back into the corner of the elevator meekly. All my previous confidence fleeing me. When I call on my inner strong woman she gestures towards her 'on break' sign with an exhausted flourish. 

The lights on the screen light up slowly, and I will it to go faster with all my might. I want this nightmare of a day to end, to be in my room eating meat pies. I even bought a new bath bomb to try out, I have been dying for a nice long soak in bubbly goodness. Oh gosh, that sounds like heaven right now. My feet have been aching from walking around the art gallery all day.  

My thoughts are filled with the overwhleming taste of my pies buttery, flaky crust and lavender scented bubbles when the elevator begins to make strange creaking noises. Despite the pang of fear I feel in the centre of my chest, I continue to act as though nothing is wrong. 

It is only when I begin to feel my centre of balance begin to shift as the elevator sways slightly from side to side that I let the fear to seep into my thoughts. With a startled cry I grab hold of the railing along the wall and cling onto it for dear life. It stops swaying abruptly and I fall to the floor like a sack of potatoes. 

The elevator shudders, then groans loudly before stopping all together. I am laying on the floor with my limbs in all directions, my heart thumping away like crazy and my mind racing away on overdrive. I scramble to my feet, my legs like jelly and glance over at rotten orange. 

His face is no longer twisted in judgement but creased with worry. To see him looking just a little worried makes me feel a lot worried. But I make myself calm down. There is nothing wrong, just a glitch in the system. 

The elevator will start up again, right.

Right?

He looks over to me, wide eyes searching mine, but I can only try to make a brave face. I give a little shrug with a weak smile. He begins to walk towards me, opens his mouth to speak. 

Then the lights go out. 

----------------------------------------

Hiya, 

Give a little, don't forget to vote, and please don't hesitate to comment! 

Love, B xx