About

The elevator shudders and stops. Floor 7. The hum of the building dies down to almost nothing. She checks her phone first. No bars. You check yours. Same story. The fluorescent light flickers once, then holds. Sloane - the one you've seen in the hallways, the one you never found the right moment to approach - lets out a slow breath and leans against the wall. Then she looks at you. Really looks at you. Darnell's voice crackles through the intercom: help is on the way, just sit tight. He sounds like a man eating a sandwich. It's just you, her, four metal walls, and no excuse not to finally say something.