Silent City Kat Finch
“Going up. Going down. Ground floor. Second floor. Fifth floor. Third floor.” All day that voice instructs us as to where it is going next. All day that woman says where she intends to take her passengers. She doesn’t even know us. We don’t even know her. I don’t even know you. I enter a tall, thin, mechanical, square, box. It’s great when you are the only one or with someone you know, because all you really have to think about is the metal death trap you are temporarily being held hostage within. But I have come to realise that actually a lift can be fun if you are standing in there with a bunch of random people. If you can get over the thoughts of them pedantically judging whether or not you are someone they deem worthy to spend their brief time with, then your mind can become wonderful if you open it up. Within that confined space it seems that there is a rule that everyone shares secretly in the back of their mind; it is socially unacceptable to talk to people in a lift in the presence of strangers. Therefore the moment random people enter the lift words do not fill the air. Instead, thoughts do. The lift moves down to the second floor. I wonder who I shall encounter today. A man of just under 6 foot stomps inside, swiftly followed by a short woman with strawberry red hair, who is then followed by a young boy dressed in black jeans, a white t-shirt and black converse sneakers. They all look down at 4’10 me. The air stiffens as the doors shut. Words get tugged in the throat and we stand there all sharing at least one thought; great, the lift is now going up and not down. But I start to ignore the annoying lift and start concentrating on my new company. Just the very thought of where these three very different people came from, who they are, what their jobs are, what they do, who they know. I could go on but it is all enough to make me feel amazed. Looking at the man, I’d put him at around 5’9. He seems to be in his late 30s and probably has a very good job. Maybe he’s an accountant. No, wait - he looks too strong to be an accountant so maybe he does not have an office job. Police officer or medic perhaps? No, I am going to give him the job of a fire-fighter because why not? He doesn’t know what I am thinking... Mind you I don’t know what he’s thinking. He could have made me a little high school kid even though I am older than I look. Anyway, so he’s a fire-fighter from...
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