Floor #13

It is First Line Friday at the Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie blog. Today’s first line is The elevator stopped on the thirteenth floor with a lurch. 

The elevator stopped on the thirteenth floor with a lurch. This was nothing new, actually, since the old elevator gave a jostling lurch on every floor at which it stopped.

Anyway, the doors slid open with a mournful scrape and I stepped into my hallway. It’s my hallway because I am the only resident on floor #13. I took a deep breath and let my lungs fill with that fabulous musty, stagnant air.

Damn, it’s good to be home!

I smiled as I rattled my key around in the rusty, old doorknob lock until it finally opened.

You know, there are a lot of plusses to living on the 13th floor. First off, the JoeBubba’s Witnesses never come around peddling their pamphlets. In fact, there are virtually no solicitors. And when Hallowe’en rolls around the kids give my place a wide berth.

One of the things I like best about living on floor #13 is the peace and quiet. No neighbors partying, fighting, moving in & out, borrowing a cup of sugar and all the other annoying things neighbors do. Of course, my rent is a good $100 or so cheaper than that of my lower-living residents, too. You know, it’s never been raised since I moved in during the early 1990s. Not many people can say that! The landlords never even come up here. If something breaks the maintenance man is in & out before I know it.

It’s a good thing too, because if he spent any amount of time in here, he’d surely find the bodies.