Not Quite Right

Today I worked on a story I wrote a long time ago. I added to the end of it and did a tad of editing to the earlier parts.
Here it is so far.


I stepped into the elevator casually, not in any big hurry. My son would rather I take a long time picking him up anyways, he had friends to hang out with after school. “Oh, um, lobby,” I stuttered when the suited man next to me asked which floor I wanted. The elevator shifted and begin to rumble upwards.

The building had recently redone all the elevators with thick carpet, wood walls, brass railings, and a full length mirror in the back. We had all moaned and groaned about uncomfortably full elevators while the shut one after the other down, although they were careful never to have them all unavailable. Within minutes of riding the newly decorated elevators, however, complaints ceased. Everyone liked the feeling of importance, of sophistication, that came with these elegant forms of transportation–much better than the industrial steel mantraps we had ridden in before.

About two minutes later I began to feel it, the odd sinking sensation you get when your subconscious knows something is wrong, and you just haven't figured it out yet. I looked around, wondering what had set off my inner alarm bells. Nothing seemed odd–the elevator still slid up it's cables, the man stood uncomfortably near the buttons, as if hoping someone would enter at the next floor so he could feel useful.

It was then that I noticed something odd out of the corner of my eye. I looked to my left, at the back wall of the elevator, but it was gone. What had I seen? I faced sideways once more and again, something to my left just seemed wrong. Am I going crazy? I thought to myself. But suddenly I realized what I had seen–or rather, not seen. The plain looking suited man across the elevator from me had no reflection. As if my thoughts drew his attention, he turned and looked straight at me for the first time.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, with a sincere smile. I tried not to stare at him, specifically his teeth. I mean, I've read as much fiction as the next person, and by fiction I mean things that are NOT REAL... But I still wondered, just for a split second, if he had... No, this is stupid, I told myself. Get a grip. In a minute, the elevator will get to the lobby and you'll step off, never see this man again, and ride the elevator on the other end of the hallway from now on. You'll go pick up Bobby, and you won't think of this anymore.


I'm beginning to think this "write at least a little every day" won't be as hard as I thought.
:) The joy of simple things.
In other news, I had an excellent day. :D