The sudden halt sent a shiver down my spine, and I stumbled slightly, grabbing onto the handrail for support. Simon raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable as he observed my reaction.
"What's going on?" I blurted out, my voice tinged with unease. The lights flickered overhead, casting eerie shadows in the confined space.
Simon remained calm, seemingly unperturbed by the unexpected malfunction. "Looks like we're stuck," he stated matter-of-factly, his gaze drifting towards the control panel. "No need to panic, Norman. These things happen."
Why!? WHY WHY!?
All my life I've heard stories of people getting trapped in elevators, I grew up terrified it would happen to me.
It's quite literally my only fear.
And now it's made worse because I'm stuck with the president of all people!
Fucking hell man, come ON.
I tried to steady my breathing, attempting to push down the rising sense of claustrophobia threatening to overwhelm me. "Do you think it'll start moving again soon?" I asked, my voice coming out more strained than I intended.
Simon's gaze flicked back to me, a small smile playing on his lips. "Hard to say," he replied, his voice strangely smooth.
I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt, my mind racing with a thousand scenarios.
"Do you think we should try calling for help?" I suggested, eyeing the emergency button warily.
"There's no need for that, Norman," Simon replied with a reassuring smile, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "I'm sure they'll have it fixed in no time."
As if on cue, a crackling voice came over the intercom. "Sorry for the inconvenience, folks. We're experiencing some technical difficulties, but our maintenance team is on their way to fix the issue. Please remain calm and patient."
"See?" Simon leaned back against the wall, seemingly unfazed by the situation. "Nothing to worry about, Norman. We'll be out of here in no time."
But despite his calm demeanor, my heart continued to race, my palms growing clammy against the metal railing. The confined space felt smaller by the minute, the air growing stuffy and oppressive.
I shot a quick glance at Simon, noting the way he seemed almost too composed, too relaxed for someone stuck in an elevator. A sudden sense of unease crept over me, raising the tiny hairs on the back of my neck.
"What do you think caused this?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
Simon's smile remained fixed in place, his eyes glinting with a strange intensity. "Could be anything, really," he mused,
"Sometimes these things happen without warning."
"How… how are you so calm about all this?" I asked hesitantly.
Simon chuckled softly, his gaze drifting towards the ceiling of the elevator. "There's no use getting worked up over things beyond our control, Norman. It's better to stay composed and wait for a solution."
I nodded slowly, not entirely reassured by his words. Time seemed to stretch on endlessly as we waited in the confined space, the only sound the occasional crackle of the intercom or the hum of the elevator's mechanisms.
Simon glanced at his watch, breaking the silence. "Looks like we've been in here for about half an hour now," he remarked casually.
Half an hour? It felt like an eternity.
Before I could respond, a loud metallic clang echoed through the elevator, and I felt myself jump out of my skin.
The lights flickered once before going out completely, plunging us into complete darkness.
Immediately, I could feel my heart racing in my chest, the walls of the elevator closing in on me.
His calm demeanor did little to ease my nerves as I gripped onto the handrail tightly, trying to ground myself in the pitch-black space.
I instinctively reached for my pocket, desperate for the comfort and light of my own phone. My hand met empty fabric, and a cold wave of realization washed over me.
"No, no, no," I muttered, patting my other pockets frantically.
It wasn't there. My phone wasn't there.
Where is it?
Did I lose it somewhere?
Panic clawed at my throat, threatening to overwhelm me. My fingers tightened their grip on the handrail, my knuckles turning white with the pressure. My chest felt tight, like a vice was squeezing all the air out of me. Black spots danced in front of my eyes, even though I couldn't see anything in the pitch darkness. I could hear the sound of my own breath, ragged and uneven in the oppressive stillness.
Just as I was about to lose myself completely to the fear, a bright light suddenly pierced the darkness. I blinked, momentarily blinded, as Simon's voice cut through the silence.
"There we go," he said casually, his tone calm and measured.
I squinted, trying to adjust to the sudden brightness. Simon was holding his phone, the flashlight function illuminating the small space of the elevator. But as my eyes focused, I noticed something odd.
The light... it wasn't steady. It flickered, almost imperceptibly, like a camera shutter opening and closing in rapid succession.
Click. Click. Click.
Each flicker sent a chill down my spine. Was he...? No, he couldn't be. Why would he be taking pictures?
"S-sir?" I managed to stammer out, my voice barely above a whisper. "Is your phone... is there something wrong with the light?"
Simon's face, half-illuminated by the flashlight, remained impassive. "Hmm? Oh, it's just an old phone. The light tends to flicker sometimes."
But even as he spoke, I could have sworn I saw his thumb move, as if pressing a button on the screen.
Click. Click. Click.
The panic that had been receding came rushing back, but for an entirely different reason now.
Why is he pointing the light directly at me?
Why does it keep flickering like that?
"Maybe... maybe we should conserve the battery," I suggested, trying to keep my voice steady. "In case we're stuck here for a while."
For a moment, Simon didn't respond. In the eerie, flickering light, I could see him studying me intently.
"Are you sure, Norman?" he asked, his voice low, "I wouldn't want you to have a panic attack."
I nodded quickly, perhaps too quickly. "I'm sure. I think... I think the dark might be better."
Simon's gaze seemed to linger on me for a moment longer before he finally lowered the phone, the light extinguishing with a soft click. "If you insist," he replied smoothly, tucking the phone back into his pocket.
The darkness pressed in around me, heavy and oppressive. But somehow, it felt safer than the alternative. At least now, I wasn't trapped under that flickering light.
"How are you feeling, Norman?" Simon's voice came from somewhere to my left, startlingly close.
I jumped slightly, pressing myself further into the corner. "F-fine," I stammered. "I'm fine."
The silence stretched between us, broken only by the sound of our breathing. My eyes strained in the darkness, trying desperately to make out any shapes or movement. But there was nothing.
"You know, Norman," Simon said suddenly, his voice cutting through the quiet, "sometimes the things we fear can end up being invaluable to us later."
I frowned, confused by his words. "What do you mean?"
"The dark," he replied. "You were afraid of it, but now you prefer it to the light. Interesting, isn't it?"
A chill ran down my spine. There was something in his tone, something knowing and almost... amused?
"I suppose," I muttered, not sure how to respond.
We lapsed back into silence. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, hyper-aware of every small sound, every shift in the air.I couldn't see Simon, couldn't tell where he was or what he was doing.
As the minutes ticked by, I found myself wondering if I had made the right choice. The flickering light had been unsettling, yes, but at least then I could see. Now, in this pitch blackness, my imagination ran wild with possibilities.
What was Simon doing? Was he watching me somehow? Was he closer than I thought?
I closed my eyes tight, trying to calm my racing thoughts. It didn't matter. The dark was better. It had to be better.
Didn't it?
"Mr. Heath?" I called out, my voice trembling slightly in the darkness.
My heart began to race, panic clawing its way up my throat. Why wasn't he answering?
"Simon?" I tried again, louder this time.
The silence stretched on, seeming to last an eternity. My mind conjured images of Simon standing right next to me, watching silently in the dark. I shuddered, pressing myself further into the corner.
Finally, after what felt like minutes but was probably only seconds, Simon's voice came. "Yes, Norman?"
I jumped. His voice sounded incredibly close, as if he was standing right in front of me.
"I-I just wanted to make sure you were still here," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Of course I'm still here," Simon replied, his tone unnervingly calm. "Where else would I be?"
Just as I was about to respond, the elevator jerked back to life. The lights flickered on suddenly, momentarily blinding me. I blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the sudden brightness.
As my vision cleared, I looked around frantically, my heart pounding. But Simon wasn't standing in front of me. He wasn't even close.
He was on the opposite side of the elevator, leaning casually against the wall, his hands in his pockets. It was impossible. There was no way he could have moved that quickly or quietly in the small space.
"Is everything alright, Norman?" Simon asked, his face a mask of polite concern. "You look a bit pale."
I stared at him, my mind reeling. "I... you... your voice was right here," I managed to say, gesturing in front of me.
Simon raised an eyebrow. "Was it? The darkness can play tricks on our senses, Norman. I haven't moved since the lights went out."
I shook my head, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Had I imagined it? Was the stress and the darkness making me hear things?
When the doors finally opened onto the lobby, I practically bolted out, muttering a hasty goodbye. As I rushed towards the exit, I could feel Simon's eyes on me, watching my retreat.
I didn't look back. I couldn't. Because I was afraid of what I might see if I did.
My legs carried me across the lobby in a frantic blur, ignoring the startled looks from the few remaining employees milling about. My hair was disheveled, my suit rumpled and askew from pressing myself against the elevator wall. I could feel a thin sheen of cold sweat on my forehead.
I burst into the men's room and my hands shook as I gripped the edges of the sink, staring at my wild-eyed reflection in the mirror. I hardly recognized the man looking back at me – pale, wide-eyed, hair sticking up at odd angles.
With trembling fingers, I turned on the faucet, cupping my hands under the stream of cold water. I splashed it on my face once, twice, three times, gasping at the shock of it. The water dripped down my chin, soaking into my collar, but I didn't care.
I grabbed a handful of paper towels, roughly drying my face and trying to smooth down my hair. As I did so, I couldn't shake the memory of Simon's calm demeanor in the elevator, the unnerving flicker of his phone's light, the impossibility of his position when the power returned.
"Get it together," I muttered to myself, meeting my own gaze in the mirror. "You're overreacting. It was just a power outage."
Everything, everything has a rational explanation.
You're just tired, you're overworked. You're feeding into your own delusions.
I stumbled into my apartment, locking the door behind me with shaky hands. My mind was a whirlwind of confusion and fear, but as I leaned against the door, I took a deep breath.
"Calm down," I muttered to myself. "Think rationally."
I moved to the kitchen, mechanically going through the motions of making tea. As the kettle boiled, I forced myself to analyze the events of the past few weeks logically.
The shoes. Simon was just being generous, wasn't he? It's not uncommon for bosses to give gifts to employees. Maybe he'd noticed my old ones were worn out and wanted to help.
The elevator incident. The flickering light? Probably just a faulty phone, like he said. And his voice sounding close in the dark? That was just my imagination playing tricks on me in a stressful situation.
His constant presence? Well, he's the president of the company. Of course, he'd be around the office frequently.
As I sipped my tea, I felt my racing thoughts begin to slow. I was being ridiculous, wasn't I? Feeding into my own anxieties and insecurities, seeing threats where there were none.
"You're creating problems that don't exist," I told myself firmly. "Simon is just... Simon. Everyone else seems to admire him. Maybe you're the problem here."
But even as I tried to rationalize everything, a nagging doubt lingered in the back of my mind. What exactly was I accusing Simon of? Making me uncomfortable? Being too nice? It all seemed so nebulous, so hard to define.
I sighed, rubbing my temples.
A good night's sleep would help me see things more clearly.
As I got ready for bed, I made a resolution. Tomorrow, I'd try to see Simon the way others did. I'd been too hasty in my judgments, too quick to assume the worst. Maybe if I approached our interactions with an open mind, I'd see that there was nothing to fear.
The next morning, I made my way through the office trying to maintain a sense of normalcy despite the nagging worry about my missing phone. I'd searched my desk thoroughly, retraced my steps, but it was nowhere to be found. The absence of its familiar weight in my pocket left me feeling oddly vulnerable.
Just as I was considering whether to report it lost, Sarah approached my desk with a curious expression. "Norman, you've been summoned to the president's office again."
My heart skipped a beat. "What? Why?"
Sarah shrugged. "No idea. But it must be important if he's calling you up there twice in two days."
I nodded numbly, my carefully constructed rationalizations from the night before starting to crumble. As I stood to leave, I noticed Emily glancing over, her eyebrows raised in surprise. Our eyes met briefly, and I felt a flush creep up my neck. Great, now she'd be wondering what was going on too.
The elevator ride up to Simon's office felt interminable. By the time I reached his door, my palms were sweating. I knocked hesitantly.
"Come in, Norman," Simon's voice called from inside.
I entered to find him seated behind his massive desk, a pleasant smile on his face. And there, right in front of him, was my phone.
"I believe this belongs to you," Simon said, sliding the device across the desk towards me. "You must have dropped it in the elevator yesterday. In your haste to leave, I didn't have a chance to return it."
Relief washed over me, quickly followed by confusion and a touch of suspicion. "Oh, thank you, sir. I... I didn't realize I'd dropped it."
Simon's smile never wavered. "Well, these things happen. You seemed quite shaken up after our little adventure in the dark. It's understandable that you might have been a bit... distracted."
I reached for the phone, acutely aware of Simon's eyes on me.
"I hope you don't mind," Simon continued, "but I took the liberty of adding my personal number to your contacts. Just in case you ever need to reach me directly."
I swallowed hard, nodding mechanically. "Of course. Thank you, sir."
As I left his office, phone clutched tightly in my hand, I fought against the suspicion trying to creep in. What else might Simon have done with my phone while it was in his possession?
No no no,
This was exactly the kind of thinking I'd sworn to avoid. Simon had done nothing but return my lost property and add his number in case of emergencies. That was thoughtful, wasn't it? The act of a concerned boss.
And as I stepped back into the elevator, I reminded myself once again: See Simon the way others do. Give him a chance. Stop letting your imagination get away from you.
As I settled back at my desk, still trying to process the interaction with Simon, I noticed Emily making her way over. My heart rate picked up again, but for an entirely different reason this time.
"So," she said, leaning against my desk with a coy smile, "two meetings with the president in as many days? You must be working on something pretty important."
I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to tell her the truth. "Oh, you know, just some business stuff," I said vaguely, hating how my voice cracked slightly. "Nothing too exciting."
Emily's eyes sparkled with interest, and she leaned in closer. "Come on, Norman, you can tell me. What's really going on?"
I could smell her perfume, and it made my head spin a little. I'd had a crush on Emily for so long, and now here she was, paying attention to me. But I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about her sudden interest.
"Really, it's just some reports President Heath wanted to discuss," I lied, forcing a smile. "Boring stuff, honestly."
Emily laughed, a sound that made my heart soar.
"Well, it sounds like you're moving up in the world," she said, reaching out to straighten my tie. Her fingers lingered a moment longer than necessary. "Why don't we grab a coffee after work? Chat about your new responsibilities."
I nodded dumbly, unable to believe what was happening. "Y-yeah, sure. That'd be great."
"Perfect," Emily beamed. "I just have a few things to wrap up. See you in the lobby at six?"
I nodded, probably a bit too eagerly. "Yeah, absolutely. I'll be there."
As Emily walked away, I couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and disbelief. Was this really happening?
Part of me was thrilled that she was finally noticing me, but another part wondered at the timing. Why now? Why after these meetings with Simon?
I shook my head, trying to clear it. I was being paranoid again, wasn't I? Emily was just being friendly. Maybe she'd always seen something in me and was only now acting on it.
The next hour crawled by at an agonizing pace. I tried to focus on my work, but my mind kept wandering to thoughts of Emily and our upcoming... date? Was it a date?
Finally, at ten minutes to six, I shut down my computer and gathered my things. I gave myself a quick once-over in the reflection of my darkened monitor, straightening my tie and attempting to smooth down my perpetually unruly hair.
Heart pounding, I made my way to the elevator and down to the lobby. I found a seat with a good view of both the elevators and the main entrance, not wanting to miss Emily's arrival.
As I sat there, watching the minutes tick by on my phone, I couldn't help but feel a growing sense of anticipation... and a tiny seed of doubt. But I pushed that aside. After all, Emily had sought me out, hadn't she? This was really happening.
I sat in the lobby, nervously checking my watch every few minutes. The hour mark ticked by, and still no sign of Emily. My initial excitement had long since faded, replaced by a gnawing anxiety and growing embarrassment.
Had I misunderstood? Maybe she meant a different day? Or perhaps something came up and she couldn't make it. I pulled out my phone, debating whether to text her, when a familiar voice made me jump.
"Norman? What are you still doing here?"
I looked up to see Simon standing there, briefcase in hand, his brow furrowed in what appeared to be concern. My face flushed hot with shame.
"Oh, um, I was just..." I stammered, not wanting to admit I'd been stood up. "I was waiting for someone, but I guess they couldn't make it."
Simon's expression softened. "Ah, I see. That's unfortunate. Who were you waiting for, if you don't mind my asking?"
I hesitated, not wanting to involve Emily or potentially get her in trouble. "Just... a coworker. For coffee. It's not important."
Simon nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving my face. "Well, since your plans have fallen through, perhaps you'd like to join me for a drink instead? I was just heading out myself."
As Simon's invitation hung in the air, I felt a familiar surge of unease.
"That's very kind of you, sir," I finally managed to say, "but I wouldn't want to intrude on your plans."
Simon waved off my concerns with a smile. "Nonsense, Norman. Consider it a gesture of goodwill between colleagues. Besides, it's the least I can do after dragging you out of your workday for those impromptu meetings."
My first instinct was to politely decline, to make up an excuse and head home. But then I remembered the promise I'd made to myself just the night before - to try and see Simon differently, to be less paranoid.
I took a deep breath, mentally scolding myself. Here was Simon, offering a kind gesture after I'd been stood up. Wasn't this exactly the type of normal, friendly interaction I should be embracing?
"You know what, sir?" I heard myself say, surprising even myself with the steadiness in my voice. "That would be nice. Thank you."
Simon's face lit up with a smile that seemed genuinely warm. "Excellent! I know a quiet place just around the corner."
As we walked out of the lobby together, I tried to quiet the anxious voice in the back of my mind. This was normal. This was fine. Just two coworkers grabbing a drink after work. Nothing sinister about it.
As Simon and I were about to exit the building, I heard quick footsteps behind us and a breathless voice calling out.
"Norman! Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!"