Grandma

It took an hour to walk from the sixteenth floor down to the first, even though the clock had barely traveled five minutes. A silence, screaming to be heard, kept springing up, on Anders’ shoulders as he leaned on the elevator walls, waiting for that familiar ding, on his shoes, as they padded softly through the floors, not making a squeak.

Veil might have tried to do something, say something. Perhaps, an awkward chuckle that would have him sending a ludicrous look her way, a loud yawn that might spur him to question her willingness to work that day. He might have alluded it to taking care of her father all night and then grumbled about how that wasn't an excuse.

Anything at all.

Her arm felt weird swinging by her side, so she put it up on her purse along with her second arm. It was an awkward way to walk, her feet getting slowed down and her brain questioning the intelligence of her actions. Yet, it was better than the silence.

The first floor was quiet. Most people had gone out for