Rosemary's pov:
Staring at my own reflection on the elevator door's surface evokes some memories that have me feeling all sorts of ways.
For some reason I still have a clear image of Nathanael's reflection on this same door from our first date night, as though he's present here with me.
I realize now how different it's been to stare into his eyes lately, like he's a totally different man from the one I met that night.
To be fair, and in many ways, he is different, even though it is just an impression.
The number indicating the floor I am currently on keeps increasing as the elevator ascends, and as it does, I can't help this growing sensation within me… Panic, not sheer, but hefty for my guts. My heart slows the cadence and refuses to pump enough blood through my body no matter the amount of oxygen I inhale.
