Grandma’s Elevator Surprise
Eleanor had lived in the same apartment building for over thirty years, and she knew every creaky step, flickering hallway light, and friendly neighbor by name. But one Tuesday afternoon, she got an unexpected shock.
She stepped into the elevator as usual, her handbag tucked under her arm, and pressed the button for the lobby. The doors slid shut with their familiar hum. But halfway down, the elevator jerked to a sudden stop, the lights flickered, and a faint buzzing sound filled the air.
When the doors finally slid open, Eleanor wasn’t greeted by the warm sight of the lobby or the familiar hallway—she was staring into an empty, dimly lit corridor she didn’t recognize. Her eyes widened, and she tightened her grip on the doorframe, unsure if she should step out or stay inside.
“Now, that’s not right…” she muttered under her breath. The red display above the door still blinked oddly, and a strange smell of burnt toast lingered in the air.
Eleanor decided she’d had enough adventure for one day. She hit the “close door” button with determination and promised herself she’d take the stairs from now on.
