A sad ending with a trigger.
There is a jagged crack in the ceiling of this freight elevator; paint over a splintered fracture that buckles slightly in the center.
The doorman runs this elevator even though it is automated. He only works days, and doesn’t talk much.
The other elevator in this building is manual, operated from the inside by a wheel, like you see in old movies. The same doorman uses it to get residents to and from ten stories of apartments.
The freight elevator is generally for moving things – but more than once it has transported my mother down to an ambulance. There were nights before the pacemaker, before we got her meds right, that she was taken down in this elevator at midnight or 3am, on a gurney with the EMS crew. On those nights, Ben, the night doorman, would ride down with her. When she admonished him to please not tell everyone…
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