The steel doors slammed shut with a finality that made Elias jump. Three hours, the elevator’s digital display blinked, mocking him. Across from him, Sarah, his coworker, had already started tapping her foot, the click a steady counterpoint to the growing silence. Elias sighed, the air thick and stale. He found himself gazing at the worn pattern of the carpet, the same design that graced his grandmother's living room. He remembered the smell of lemon polish and the way the sun would slant through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. He reached into his pocket, his fingers brushing against a small, smooth stone he always carried, a memento of a childhood trip.
He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling the need to connect. "Remember the company picnic last year?" he asked Sarah, his voice sounding oddly fragile.
Sarah stopped tapping her foot, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. "Vividly," she said, a small smile playing on her lips. "You spilled punch all over Mr. Henderson."
Elias chuckled, the sound a bit unsteady. "He didn't seem too bothered." He imagined his grandfather laughing at the same moment, and the thought was warm.
His gaze drifted upward to the flickering lights, then back down at Sarah. He wanted to say something more, something about the weight of time, about how fleeting everything felt, but the words caught in his throat.