There she'd be.
Feeling hopeless...again.
But it's decided.
She knows where she wants to go now.
She presses the button, waiting,
for the cheery "ding" indicating
the car has arrived.
She won't try to see herself in the stainless steel
of the doors.
She already knows what she'll see.
The doors slide apart smoothly,
and without a sound.
Nervously, she steps over the threshold,
trembling slightly.
But it's decided.
She knows where she's going.
There might be other people in the elevator car
but they won't talk to her.
They won't see her.
They've already been through it.
They're hardly even there.
Her finger reaches out to push the button
of the floor she wants to go on.
As it sinks under the pressure of her fingertip
she notices something.
Someone, actually.
It's that friend of hers.
The one who always tried to
talk her out of this.
The one who actually
cares.
She's running down the hall now.
Yelling something.
Trying to stop her.
And in that moment,
there's a flash
of uncertainty.
Does she really want
to go through with this?
But the doors begin to close.
Her friend runs faster, while she,
stands in the center
of the elevator car,
frozen.
She doesn't want this to happen.
It's too scary.
She doesn't want to go.
She wants to stay with her friend.
But as her friend closes the distance,
just an arm's length away,
the doors
shut.
It's been decided.
She's going.
Now.
And no matter how hard she tries
to pry the doors open with her fingernails,
or push the "open" button repeatedly,
she can't change that.
And the pain
hasn't been taken away
like she thought it would.