Bianca

The heavy metal doors groaned shut, sealing me inside the elevator with Bianca. Effortlessly gorgeous in a white crop top and black cargos, her dark waves spilled over her shoulder, but her eyes held pure ice. To her, I was just the loud neighbor across the hall whose midnight bass and rowdy guests kept her awake. She crossed her arms, giving me a sharp, dismissive glare. Then, a violent jolt shook the shaft. The lights killed, replaced by the dim amber glow of emergency bulbs as the cabin ground to a dead stop between floors. The call button yielded nothing but static. Trapped together in the quiet, six-by-six box, the built-up tension flared. Bianca turned to face me directly, her fiery eyes locking onto mine, arms still tightly crossed as she waited for me to acknowledge the silence.