The past three Fridays at 12:58pm, an out-of-breath woman stands in front of the elevator down the hall, paces, and swears non-stop until the elevator arrives. And it's a slow elevator.
Though she uses just the basic swears, she manages to string them together and spew them in a manner so foul, so angry, and so hateful, that I'm pretty sure she could make a hardened prison inmate blush.
I am seriously afraid of her.
But today, her hideous fury got the best of my curiosity. I peeked at her from around the corner to see what could possibly make someone so impatient and furious at an elevator. Just a lady in her early 60s with a red turtleneck and frizzy gray hair.
I think I'll walk by her next week and see what happens. Maybe if I'm really bold I'll get into the elevator with her and give her a plate of homemade cookies and see what happens.
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