all the way down .
I keep dreaming about a girl that lives on the eighth floor. I don’t know who she is, or what she looks like, only that she’s stronger and braver than I am. We stand in the elevator together and when we go down my heart lurches.
And I wake up confused with that image of us going down in that dark elevator again and again, not knowing when or where I’d picked up the thought of an elevator with a yellow light or how I know she lives on the eighth floor.
She’s shorter than me, I think, but she’s never afraid. I don’t look at her when we’re in the tiny claustrophobic metal box together because I close my eyes and brace myself for the fall. And even though in my dreams I realise that I won’t really get hurt or die, the beat that my heart skips is almost real.