My eyes stared frantically at the unlit buttons as my hands slammed down onto each one. The old man stood motionless at my side, his eyes not moving and expressionless. My heart was pounding at an increasing pace under my rib cage and my hands - which were still pressing the elevator buttons in hopes that one would magically work - were trembling in fear. Oh, yes. I was going to die. My lungs were going to run out of oxygen and my soul would be knocked out of my body without mercy. I was going to die with no one but an elderly stranger by my side ...
... and then I opened my eyes and realised that I was on my bed, with my mum's voice piercing through the air, telling me to wake up and go complete my chores. My heart was still pounding in my chest, threatening to fly out of it, and when I reached for my phone, my hands were still shaking in terror.
I have a huge fear of dying in elevators. Don't laugh.
Have a good day, people.
P.S. Oh, and uh, thanks for keeping me company in the elevator, random old man.
P.P.S. I'm not really good at writing stories, sorry.
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