I went for drinks, a lot of beer. It was a hard day. I got home and went into the elevator; a lady stepped in too. Her perfume smelled good. It was late at night, perhaps awkward to start conversation. I wanted to ask her where she had been, what she was doing, why did she wear this perfume? Instead, as neighbors do, we stood in the elevator silently. I fiddled with my phone and tried to download e-mail. Connections never work in an elevator.
Archive for January 23rd, 2010