Samantha pulled the door shut behind her while trying to juggle her bag and coffee mug. It was her favorite, the one with a grumpy bulldog on it complaining about mornings. Thankfully it was spill proof, saving her from the splash of hot coffee as she spun toward the elevator.

Turning just in time to see the doors open, she called out to her neighbor, “Ooh, hold the door.”

Christopher Remy’s eyes grew wide. There was no polite way to hide it as he reached for the ‘close doors’ button. If he was quick enough, they’d close before she got there. He willed them to move faster, unable to handle her kind of nonsense this early in the morning. She was like the thorn on a rose stem. After pricking your finger, it would jar you just enough to be annoyed, but not really do any serious damage.

“Wait!” She yelled, now seconds from making it. “Hey! I saw that.” She slammed her hand with the mug in front of the door before it could close completely. The doors started to reopen.

“What’s your problem?” She glared at her neighbor.

Christopher rolled his eyes and looked away. Damn this slow elevator.

“Seriously, that was rude! You saw me coming.” Her voice whined with the abrasiveness of a ragged nail file. She wasn’t interested in polite conversation, only in letting him know what a jerk he was.

Christopher said nothing. He wasn’t her biggest fan. This was the same girl that parked her stupid dog grooming van in the spot he’d parked in for two years straight. It was the perfect balance of sun and shade, tucked in the corner of the lot so other people didn’t park too close.

Ever since she came around a few months ago, nothing was the same. She took his spot, she was loud, and more than anything, she always had an opinion, and rarely an important or well thought out one. She seemed to blurt out whatever was on her mind, forcing those around her to listen to her nonsense.

“That tie doesn’t go with your outfit,” she snorted. A**hole. He saw me coming. What’s his problem anyway?

Christopher still said nothing. As the elevator descended, he counted the seconds. The building was only four stories high, but the antiquated elevator seemed to run at a snail’s pace, sluggish and painfully slow.

Click, click, clack... The elevator jerked to a stop.

“What the…?” Great. I don’t have time for this. The last person Sam wanted to be stuck in the elevator with was some uptight, boring guy who wanted absolutely nothing to do with her. It’s not like she had time to spare, anyway. She had an appointment to get to, and running late on the first appointment would set her back the entire day. Every single client would be inconvenienced because of a time delay. Sam hated things that were out of her control.

Christopher fanatically pushed all the buttons. “Nothing,” he groaned. Picking up the emergency phone, he rang maintenance. Nobody answered. “Are you kidding me?” His voice noticeably raised an octave.

“Does this happen often?” Sam’s annoyance was obvious. Her statement was punctuated with a deep exaggerated sigh, the kind a teenager with a chip on her shoulder might use.

“No.” His fingers pried at his collar. What happened to all the oxygen? He couldn’t breathe.

Okay, so maybe there wasn’t less oxygen yet, but there would be. She would be sucking up all of the air. Beads of sweat formed on his palms almost immediately, just another reminder of his inner panic. Keep calm!

“Are you okay?” Sam looked over. He was getting twitchy.

“Yes.” Refusing to look at the oxygen sucker, he controlled his breathing with small, shallow bits of air. Maybe if he used less oxygen with each breath, it would last longer.