The Elevator
Using a outstretched finger, I impatiently jabbed at the small, round button to call the elevator. But, the switch remained dark, ignoring my request. I jabbed at it again. The moment I resigned myself to taking the stairs, the mechanism finally responded. The button emitting a faint, amber glow that indicated a cab would be dispatched to my location on the thirteenth floor. Folding my arms across my chest, I released a slow, exasperated breath. While tapping the toe of my shoe against the discolored stone-tiled floor, I glared at the dim numbers above the tightly closed elevator door.
I sighed heavily, anticipating another late morning caused by this ancient building’s faulty equipment. This was not my first visit to Chicago. But, this sure would be my last stay in a hotel billed as being “19th Century Historical”. Squalid and obsolete would have been much more accurate descriptions. And, seedy.
The digits over the elevator door slowly lit up in succession as the laboring pulley system sluggishly raised the cab vertically through the shaft from the ground floor. After a prolonged delay on the seventh floor, the cab finally continued on its lethargic journey toward me. Upon reaching my level, the motor decelerated loudly and the grinding mechanisms came to a shuttering stop.
“La Petalosa”, I sneered to myself. The flowery name made the hotel seem to be delicate and graceful. But, the only thing floral to be found in this derelict garden was the moldy, peeling wallpaper.
The elevator’s steel doors grated open loudly and released a repulsive stench of mothballs and dust that assaulted my nostrils. I exhaled loudly and took a single step forward into the dimly lit elevator cab.
Then, I froze. There were two female passengers inside the cab and I stared at them in bewilderment.
The women faced each other as they slouched against the wood-paneled wall at the back of the cab. One woman was taller, and she seemed to be fairly old. She was looking down at the floor and remained motionless, concentrating on the filthy yellow carpeting. Crumpled candy wrappers, bits of tinsel, and sequins littered the area around her old-fashioned and faded leather boots. Her head was shrouded by an extravagant purple velvet scarf. Tufts of whitish hair peeked from under the scarf and fell across her pale forehead, covering her eyes.
The other woman was younger. She glanced over toward my general direction for a moment before returning her gaze toward her silent companion. Her shadowy eyes seemed to remain unfocused behind her half-closed, smokey lids, and she absentmindedly fingered the dull strand of pearls accessorizing her gaudy, red fringe dress.
In revulsion, I took a step backwards.
The elevator door shuddered briefly and then it closed. I stood silently, listening to the drone of the motor as the cab gradually returned to the ground floor.
