“Got married too young,” the middle-aged woman said, unprompted. “Wasn’t arranged but sure felt like it.”
I eased myself down onto the unforgiving floor of this broken-down elevator and prayed the stoppage wouldn’t take forever.
“Gout… ever have it? Nasty business,” the woman revealed.
I glanced over at the only other person in the elevator – a young woman in workout gear. We shared a desperate look.
“I swear, one more overdraft fee and I’ll go down to that branch and murder everyone myself,” the woman grumbled.
I checked my watch. Only seven minutes in and counting.
God help us all.
The Weekday One Hundred 