The elevator groaned and came to a halt

The elevator groaned and came to a halt

between the fourth floor and the fifth.

The air turned to wool in a matter of seconds,

carrying a stranger's heavy, clove-scented drift.

I felt it then, a single, cold bead

sliding down the long ditch of my spine.

It tracked a slow path through the heat of the cab,

a private and salt-water line.

A damp ring bloomed at the base of my neck,

soaking the cotton and turning it grey.

We stood there in silence, avoiding each other,

waiting for the cables to give us away.