Ex-Husband's Regret
That small conversation gave me a small reprieve from my worries, but only for a little while.
Once inside, I press the button for the executive floor, fumbling in the process.
The higher the elevator climbs, the more tightly wound I become. I shove my trembling hands into my pockets, trying to contain the panic.
Faster than I would’ve wanted, the elevator dings and the doors slide open. I hesitate as I grapple with my fear. I stand frozen, debating whether I should just turn back, like the coward I am.
But just as the doors begin to close, I jump out.