by Mico Subosa
She entered his life on the eighth floor and left it on the ground floor.
The moment she got in the elevator, removed her blazer and undid her ponytail, he had begun to fall in love. Her scent was that of citron and hibiscus, infused with maybe two or three drops of lust, which made it very difficult for him to resist pulling himself nearer and nearer to her as the elevator descended. That entire time, he also wondered what her coral-pink lipstick must taste like. He could also hear her stilettos going tap, tap, tap, tap, beating in sync with the velocity of his heartbeat.
All his life, he’d been preparing for this moment – that moment he would bump into the love of his life; it was the reason why he made sure his neckties were always perfectly dimpled and perfectly Windsor-knotted, his shirts and trousers always iron-pressed and unwrinkled, his shoes always polished to look like he just bought them off the shelf from Zara the morning on the way to work. He hoped that she noticed how kempt he looked.
“Hi, how are you?” he said.
“Hi, I’m good, thanks.” Her voice was a smoky alto.
Their eyes met for a split-second. She had such deep, dark brown eyes he wanted to swim in.
“It’s been pretty cool outside the past couple of nights, hasn’t it?” She merely smiled and nodded, not even glancing to his side.
“Do you work—
The bell rang as the elevator opened to the ground floor lobby. Her high heels tap, tap, tap, tapped away from the elevator. The door slowly closed, he, slowly losing sight of her. He didn’t expect that meeting the love of his life would be so unexciting and so confined to usual perfunctory talk of local weather conditions.
He was now alone in the elevator as it descended to the basement, she, leaving no trace but the faint tinge of citron, hibiscus and lust in the air.