I thought the elevator was empty until I noticed a girl. “Where’d you come from?” I asked. “You’re the kid from 6B.”
“You should go downstairs,” She said.
I raised my eyebrows.
The lift came to a convulsive halt.
The fire alarm startled me. “Okay, don’t panic,” I reassured.
I pushed buttons, and the doors creaked open an inch. “I’ll get these open.” I pulled with all my strength.
On the second try, they opened enough that I could slip through. She should go first, I thought, but when I turned around, there was no one there.
I wiggled through. As I cleared the doors, I heard the cable snap and the elevator plummet.
I smelled smoke.
I ran downstairs as firetrucks arrived.
I asked about the girl. The woman from 6B told me that it couldn’t be her granddaughter. She died in a car accident last week.