You were cutting it close to being late as you paced through the main entrance of your office building. A determined stride down the corridor and a swift turn ‘round the corner to the elevators caused you to spot one with open doors threatening to close. You quicken to a jog and made way to the silver wall, managing to slip in between the nearly half shut doors and casing a bit of shock to the only other person in the space. You leaned against the left wall and tried to quiet your huffs so that it wasn’t the most embarrassing entrance ever. A chuckle sounded from the other side, causing you to shift your gaze from the now closed doors to the well polished man beside you. It was still your first week in this new building, but you could tell from the lack of a suitcase yet being adorned in a damn perfect suit that this guy was at the top of your company’s food chain.

    “Looks like you just made it,” he joked, voice a bit stiff as if he didn’t want to reveal too much emotion. You just nodded, holding your breath in hopes that would stop the erratic beating of your heart.

    “Thank god,” you say once air has found it’s place back in your lungs. You can stand once again straight in your uncomfortable heels and black pencil skirt that seem uniform in a place like this. He smiled, nodded and looked forward to watch the climbing floor number grow higher and higher. You let your gaze drift as well to the eleven, twelve, thirteen, thinking of anything to make the atmosphere a bit friendlier. Just as random topics of possible conversation start to float in your mind, the lift jolted to a tense pause.

“What the ,” the guy muttered as his body went rigid, scooting back from his stance nearing the middle back to the right corner, grasping onto the metal pole for dear life. You stood still, hoping it was just a quick buffer and things would carry on fine. The man already pulled out a phone from his blazer pocket, unlocking the device just as the lights cut off, causing the only lit thing in the space to be his shocked face. If this was just a show on tv, you would be laughing from the poor guy’s expression alone. Then you remember this is real life and you’re stuck with this stranger who seems to have no chill. He quickly tapped and scrolled, tapping again and pulling the device to his ear, the light vanishing to a mild glow from the side of his head. You think to pull out your phone as well, then remember that it wouldn’t get service in here.

“Are you ing kidding me,” he says and pulls it away from his ear, ready to punt the thing on the ground. Instead he holds it in his hand and turns it to point at you like a makeshift flashlight. For some reason you want to laugh, causing you to hold back a chuckle and show an awkward grin that you wish would go away because this stressed out man does not seem to find anything about this situation funny. A thought comes to mind that could aid in your rescue.

“Just hit the call button,” you say, and point to the controls below the buttons in front of him. He turns the light to the display, seeming to regain common sense and presses the button, holding it down for a few seconds longer than necessary. Then pulling away for a moment before placing his thumb back on it, giving it an extra few quick presses as if it will speed things up. You let out a sigh and watch as he steps away from the buttons and goes back to the right corner. Hopefully this would be resolved quickly and you could do a subtle jog down the hall of the twenty second floor to be sitting at your cubicle right on time to avoid a scolding from your supervisor. But this guy next to you seems to be dressed pretty legit. If things turn south and take a little too long, maybe you could convince him to somehow cover for you. Who are you kidding? This guy seems like he’s in his own world with his audible breathes in and out as he sat his phone with its bright screen beside him like a night light. Maybe a basic conversation could help keep the poor guy from losing his . You clear your throat and tell him your name, asking for his in return.

“Kim Jongin,” he says with just a quick glance in your direction, making you feel blessed for not having claustrophobia or anxiety or whatever is causing him to be in such a panic.

You both sat on the carpeted floor, a few minutes having passed. The silence was refreshing and a qui