He steps onto the elevator
and she's already standing in the corner,
leaning on her hands.
He presses "8"
and falls into the opposite wall,
eyes rolling around
on the dirty tile floor.
The ill florescence flickers on
peeling, fake wood paneling.
He feels her watching,
can no more deny
the weight of her gaze
any more than he can
the small, steady pull
at the soles of his feet.
He stoops to pick up his eyes
with shaking hands.
He slowly wipes them on his grey shirt
before dropping them in his jeans pocket.
She starts to hum his favorite song
as he hurries out the still-opening door
onto steady ground.
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