the old lady looked at the buttons, her tired eyes barely focusing, then looked back at him.
“there wasn’t a yesterday yesterday.”
emil’s hand slowly went back to rest at the side of his frame.
“right.”
he nodded, and then both remained silent.
emil got off on the 7th floor.
(some day between monday and wednesday).
It was hot outside, and the fridge at emil’s apartment was as hollow as his growling stomach. He wasn’t a lazy man, but didn’t feel like going for groceries on a sunday.
it was tuesday, however.
so he went out to get them.
the doors closed.
emil pointed at the “13” while his gaze met hers.
“thirteenth.” he said in a whisper, almost as if he didn’t want the elevator to hear him.
“yes?” the old lady asked, unimpressed.
“there wasn’t a thirteenth floor yesterday.”
emil replied, pointing at the 12.