Prisoners of the 8th Floor

It began with a moment so small, it might have slipped past unnoticed.

I had just entered an elevator alone, waiting. The door was still open.

A young woman quickly approached but hesitated as she saw me, something held her back. That hesitation… that discomfort, born of my smiling existence intruding on her reality.

That was enough to ignite my first story in this collection. I finished it later that day.

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