Posts Tagged ‘journal2’

Twenty Two

Friday, February 3rd, 2012

Silence.  Amber didn’t even know silence could be this awkward.  God, she just had to get on the elevator didn’t she.  Her mother was always telling her to take the stairs, but she didn’t listen.  If only she had, just this one time.

“I think you dropped something.”

“What?”  She didn’t look over, only tilted her head slightly to direct her ear closer toward him.

“My jaw.”

Amber choked back a mortified laugh.  Did she imagine those words?  Something like that would be heard in a movie as a joke it was so pathetically cheesy.  Five years and that was what he came up with.  A pang of sorrow clamped down on her chest, poor Abby.  She felt even worse for her now, having to go through all this and be flattered by it.  Now it makes sense howshe often wondered why she is friends with Abby at all.  At this point it must be pity and the sense of duty Amber was raised with.

She could feel him staring at the side of her head, but she didn’t twist enough to catch him with her peripheral vision.  The man would probably hit on a cactus.  Moving her bag higher on her shoulder she shifted her weight from one leg to the other.  An irritating tingle had begun to spread along the leg she had just relieved.

“The only thing I’ve dropped is my taste for men wearing Express.”

Was the elevator even moving?  She couldn’t remember a time twenty-two stories had taken this long to pass.  That was the last thing she needed, to be stuck in a stifling metal box with Cory Withers.  Again, she felt sorry for Abby.  Why had she put herself in the position to be alone with this absolute parody of a man.

“Clearly your taste in men was never strong to begin with.”

She could hear the fabric of his cheap pants shift as he changed his footing.  Imagining him shoving his hands in his pockets and slumping his shoulders like he was Joseph Smith among apostles made her want to vomit all over the elevator.  But then it would be unbearably rank, even more than it was now.  The elevator was most certainly not moving.

“I must beg your pardon, but the taste I question is not my own, but Abby’s.  My grief for her increases with every second I’m imprisoned in these walls.  Now I wouldn’t go so far as to assume you had anything to do with the elevator malfunction, but I feel the need to remind you that there are camera’s mounted in each elevator, so I wouldn’t try anything.”

“Don’t kid yourself, I would rather be seen giving hickeys to a chimpanzee than come anywhere near you.  And Abby is a common LA street whore who I pulled from South Street when she had track marks running down her arms and a pimp trailing her every move.  She’s about as credible as a sewer rat and smells like one too.”

“Hardly the words of a gentleman, Cory.”

The doors suddenly opened, though Amber had no idea to which floor.  Cory escaped quickly and disappeared down the corridor.  Amber flipped open her cell and dialed Abby’s number.  They would need mojitos after that.

 

Prompt: Trapped in an elevator, alone, with a person you would walk across the street to avoid.  Write a narrative dialogue


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