Copyright 2012 Lucian Carter
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He stood at the elevator doors, waiting, impatiently. He was in his 30s, neither handsome nor ugly. His hair was long; his beard full but trimmed neatly. He was wearing old clothes, stained jeans and an old WWE t-shirt. Right now he didn’t care about his appearance.
“Come on, come on.” He muttered to himself.
At last there was a “ping” as the elevator arrived. He squeezed through the doors as soon as they opened. He pushed the button for the lobby, 26 floors down. The elevator was silent, no music, no video screen. He leaned, back, waiting. The elevator came to a stop at floor 24 and he cursed under his breath before the door opened.
A man in a waiter’s uniform, about his age, perhaps a few years older, entered the elevator.