Elevator

It's Valentine Day. I have no Valentine. I'm in a shopping mall by myself, having bought a gift for a friend. I'm going from L4 to B2, so I walk into an empty elevator. Two middle-aged women are already inside; I pay them no attention-- I have somewhere to go.

Somewhere along the descent, a young woman enters the elevator. If I had no control over my bodily functions, my jaws would have dropped. She's actually so beautiful that she makes me nervous. 

Suddenly, I realise that I have been staring at her face for that "awkwardly-too-long-for-strangers" amount of time. I divert my attention. Looking straight ahead instead, I stare at her pearl-white arm. It has a really nice complexion. I'm in lala-land. 

She checks her watch. She has to meet up with her Valentine perhaps?

I can't recall the last time this has ever happened to me-- the heart palpitations and the throat tightening. I try to think of something to say, perhaps: "You're so beautiful you're making me nervous." The truth works sometimes right?

My vocal cords begin to vibrate and moisten as I get ready to deliver that line when I suddenly realise that the two older women in the elevator are staring at me like I'm some sort of pervert... My confidence melts in the blink of an eye. 

I stare at the floor.

The elevator arrives at L1-- it's been only 15 seconds. The two older women get out and I suddenly realise that I would reach my destination faster if I get out here. 

I get out.

The beauty stays, in her now empty elevator towards B2, the floor I had originally intended to go towards. Why did I get out?

In the next second, I think of simply walking back into the elevator to spend a few more seconds with her, asking her number, who knows what would happen from there. Our eyes meet for the tiniest sliver of a microsecond. But the courage that left me earlier never came back. 

I walk away.