Elevated Strangers

I spent all morning looking for a victim. I must have ridden the elevator in my apartment three or four times.

Nothing.

So, when my lunch break came I dragged along a friend, planted him outside the door of the elevator on the ground floor of another building near my work. He waited. And as the doors opened at the bottom he snapped the picture. There were two pictures of me frowning. I was all alone. But finally. Finally. Paydirt. As the elvator opened for the third time I leaned into the tall, broad gentleman who lucklessly got in with me and then I walked out and away from him, the elevator and my friend with the camera. I bet he's still wondering who I am and whether I work for his wife.

(Congrats, Marie!)