#44

I pressed the button for 10. The elevators began to close, then popped back open as a man dashed inside. He pushed 5 and then looked at me and frowned. I suppose he was hoping he would have the elevator to himself. As we started to ascend, the man stepped very close to the doors. He was so close that the tips of his shoes and his forehead touched the metal. 

He must be in an awful hurry, I thought. Or he wants to get away from me as quickly as possible. 

When we reached the fifth floor, I watched as the doors parted and splayed the man’s hair at the front of his head in all directions. There was a noise like a windshield wiper in a drizzle, a dragging squeak. When the doors opened wide enough, he stepped through, turned, and smiled at me. 

“Have a nice day.” He waved. 

I reflexively stuck my hand in the air and waved back, but was too puzzled by the quick change in his demeanor to say anything before the doors closed once more.

That’s it, I realized. It was the doors.

They must provide the most pleasurable face massage–one so satisfying it could turn a bad day into a good one, like the parting of storm clouds. Like the ancient practice of gua sha. Like splitting open a melon and scraping out the seeds.

I stepped as close as I could and smushed my face against the cool metal, feeling the slit that separates the two panels press into my forehead and nose. I awaited the coming chasm with excitement. I was ready to be transformed.

I did not expect someone to be waiting to enter the elevator on the other side.