Stopping for flowers

Stopping for flowers

MAY 25, 2007

“What a stupid way to die,” I muttered to myself. Trapped inside a steel cage suspended in mid-air with seven other people gasping for air, I can taste fear inside every trickle of sweat dripping across my face, and it is awful. I calm myself by thinking that help is on the way. But tick… tock … tick… tock… Time seems to be slower, as if we were in Phuma Lear’s Time and Space warp. With every sluggish tick of the seconds dial and the possibility of suffocating to death, crazy thoughts began to circle my head. Five minutes have passed and no help still. My ears are bursting with the sound of the emergency alarm bell, the ringing sound rattling my skull. The spinning fan above us makes things worst as sour air is re-circulated further to our discomfort. Good thing I wore deodorant that day.

I look for a vent and the possibility of climbing out in case things get more serious. I tried to recall movies that had scenes people trapped in elevators, and maybe come up with an idea. I could be a zero to hero if I can pull this off. Nah…


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