That awkward moment when people argue in an elevator.
A couple stands at the back of the cramped "room," bickering in hushed voices. Her hair is caramel brown, twisted into an elegant chignon, and her ears drip with diamonds.
She can't be thirty. Neither can he.
His hair is bronze coloured, purposefully dishevelled and shimmering. A custom-fitted suit hangs from his slim shoulders, and a white sweater dress clings to her narrow waist.
I wasn't talking to her for longer than a moment. He hisses, rolling his eyes.
Yes you were, and it was obvious you were enjoying staring at her cleavage. She mutters back, crossing her arms across her model-like chest. Just admit it.
Lissa, would you drop this? I don't even remember her name.
Ugh. Just... she turns around and faces the wall.
The only other person in the elevator besides me is a preteen boy who looks about as awkward as I do.
Lissa, I love you. I don't know what else I have to do for you to understand. It was a dinner, she said hello and I talked to her and it meant absolutely nothing to me. He murmurs in a soft voice, tentatively touching her elbow.
I can see her blurry reflection on the wall, and she's wavering.
I'm sorry, Cam. I don't know what's been wrong with me lately.
She turns around and he smiles softly. It's okay, Liss.
She hugs him, and he rests his head on her shoulder.
When the exit the elevator, they're making out against the apartment door 11b before the doors slide close.
***
I'm laughing. That was dumb. #185 in shirt story agshjsjsjskjsbeb three of my short stories i ranking today i can't even
