The Dance of the Elevator

https://youtu.be/4CVXQq230Hg


The elevator doors opened, and she walked in. She pressed the button for the fifteenth floor and waited for the doors to close. As soon as they did, she leaned her head back against the mirror wall and held onto the handle for support. She was tired, more tired than the day before, and even more than the day before that. It seemed like every meaningless long day morphed into the next. She longed to take off the heels and stifling pressed clothes she wore every day. She looked down at her briefcase and pointy shoes. She closed her eyes, picturing herself living her dream of wearing a different pointed shoe.

            The elevator began to grow, the mirrored walls expanded, the shiny floor turned into hardwood, the metal handrail morphed into a wooden barre. When she opened her eyes, she was wearing pointe shoes and ballet clothing. Someone sitting behind a large grand piano on the far end of the room started playing softly. Suddenly, as if she had practiced the routine a million times before, she began to dance. The music was slow, matching the languid movements of her body. She was fluid, moving effortlessly around the room, the very floor bending to her will.

            The music began to reach a crescendo, and she leaped into the air. When she landed, she was dancing with a partner. He circled around her, and their movements were seamless. It was as if they had danced together since the beginning of time. Every step was in sync, and each knew what the other was going to do beforehand. She danced into his arms, and he lifted her into the air. She was in the sky, as weightless as a cloud, the wind freeing her from all her cares. The room spun, but all her worries were utterly still and forgotten. She twirled in the air, birds fluttered around her face and arms. Their feathers morphed into the shape of her arms until, she too, sprouted wings. And then, right as she was taking flight, her partner brought her back down.

            She rolled onto the floor and began to spin. She kept her eyes on her partner as she spun, and the music reached its climax. When she made her final turn, her partner disappeared. She ended her dance in the middle of the room, alone on the floor. Her eyes were closed as the last note rung out. Then, the elevator dinged, and her eyes snapped open. She was on the fifteenth floor. She picked up her briefcase and walked towards her desk.

All day long, she tried to soak in the memory of her dance, the feeling of being entirely in sync with her partner. She knew it would be a long time before she felt that free. For some reason, the day didn’t drag like all the others. She did her best to remember the song with every task she completed, but it was already fading. By the time she was pressing the button for the elevator ride back down, she had forgotten it. She walked into the elevator, and right before the door closed, a man rushed in. When she looked over to ask him which floor, her hand froze on the buttons. It was the same man from her dance. When he smiled at her, the memory came rushing back. She smiled back, and when he opened his mouth to greet her, their song began to play.

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