Free A Smudge of Gray by Jonathan Sturak Page B

but the ding in front of her changed her
focus.
    The metal doors opened and Janice
stepped into the box. She pressed the button labeled “7” with her pinky finger,
and then waited for the doors to close. She looked down at the one-inch gap
between the elevator and the floor. She wondered how far she hovered above the
void below. Then the door closed, but the image of a shoe stole her gaze from
the gap. It was charcoal gray with a white patch accenting it. Janice watched
as it stopped the metal doors and reopened them. She followed the shoes up and
saw the slacks, the trench coat, the briefcase, and then the face of the individual
invading her space. It was a handsome specimen of a male Homo sapiens . Her
eyes locked with his as the two humans shared a smile.
    Janice watched as Trevor slid into the
elevator and pressed the number eight on the list. She stepped back as his
masculine cologne swirled around the elevator and drugged her. The doors closed.
The lift ascended toward the roof. Janice wondered who this man was and if he
were married. She stole a glimpse of his left hand, but his black leather glove
shielded any evidence. Even though a void of silence filled the elevator, a
list of questions filled her mind, a list that traversed from her brain down to
her vagina. Her aroused mind consumed her senses, and without even noticing the
sacks anymore, the right one fell from her hand. Organic apples and oranges rolled
around.
    “Oh, how clumsy,” she said with
embarrassment.
    “Here, let me help you,” Trevor offered
as he grabbed the rolling fruit.
    Janice returned some to her bag.
    Trevor handed her an orange. “It’s never
a good idea to shop alone, you know. An extra set of hands always comes in
handy.” Trevor smiled.
    “You’re right.” The elevator dinged.
“Here’s my floor. Thank you, sir.”
    “The name’s Trevor.”
    “I’m Janice. It’s a pleasure.”
    Janice tried to shake hands, but
realized her bags prevented it.
    “It’s okay. Be careful with your fruit,”
Trevor warned.
    Janice exited the elevator, leaving the
beautiful being behind. The stillness of the silent hallway surrounded her.
Identical doors lined each side as the hunter green zebra-striped carpet calmed
her kitten heels. The sound of the recycled paper bags brushing her coat filtered
through the corridor. Finally, she arrived at her resting place, room “717”
written in Arial font. Janice put the sacks on the carpet, and then fumbled in
her purse, which was on top of the bread.
    “You forgot this.”
    Janice jumped. She grabbed her chest. Then,
she saw the man from the elevator, the man named Trevor. A grin painted her
face as she saw a red apple surrounded by his gloved hand.
    “Oh, sorry to have startled you,” Trevor
said.
    “It’s okay. I don’t know why I’m so
jumpy tonight.”
    “Let me help you with those.” Trevor
reached for one of her bags with his free hand, the briefcase in his other.
    “Thank you, but it’s okay…really.” Janice
opened her door.
    “It’s the neighborly thing to do. Where
would you like this?” Trevor asked.
    “Oh, you’re too kind. I can get it.” Janice
reached for the light and walked inside. She was flustered by both the
groceries in her hand and the man in her home. Janice led the way on the
cream-colored carpet as the stylish condo enclosed them. Classic artwork mixed
with contemporary abstracts hung on the white walls.
    “Over there is fine,” she instructed as
Trevor walked into the kitchen. She chuckled. “You know, I usually don’t invite
strangers into my condo like this.”
    Janice watched him move. His slick
saunter, confident courage, and arresting appearance tickled her senses and played
with her like a cat playing with a mouse. There was something to be said about
the seemingly random sequence of events leading to her new guest, something
that the single woman felt happened for a reason.
    “I’m not a stranger. You already know my
name,” Trevor joked