
I stood on the bottom floor waiting for the elevator. There are two elevators and when one reaches the bottom floor, the other makes its way to the middle so that, when it’s called from no matter where, it’s as close to all floors as it can be without keeping the caller waiting. I’ve often thought of the vanity of that, especially here in a building where the people move out as quickly as they move in. I’ve been here for two years and it feels like I’ve been waiting just as long for this damned elevator. I don’t mind because I have nothing to get up there for, up there on the 7th, where like all the other floors, the doors are white, the people don’t talk and the night is longer than the day. It’s midnight and it’s a Tuesday in November so I travel to the 7th alone. I stare at the bulletin board for the building and it’s empty. It has notices and pictures but it’s empty. I haven’t slept properly from nearly three weeks, a successful push of late being four and a quarter hours last Monday, the effects of a bad day, a dirty gin and an over the counter sleeping pill that just made my eyes feel heavy and like they couldn’t open when I finally woke up at 02.45am.
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