I get on the elevator, and I sigh. I am not smiling in my usual happy way.
I look at my elevator companion, and I see a elderly impish man. Plastered on his face is a shit eating grin.*
He has come down on the elevator, but he does not exit and he now goes up with me. Instantly he turns to me, "So, why is your hair long?"
I look at him, and my grumpiness fades, and I am smiling. "Because I love my hair long."
"And why do you have blue eyes?" His own black eyes reflect a tease.
"I don't have blue eyes, " I break out into a sincere laugh, and I feel happiness, "but my father had blue eyes."
I look down at his hands - he is holding an unfinished soapstone carving. He follows my gaze, "I carve things. This one is going to be a whale. Do you see the tail?"
"Yes. Can I take a picture?"
"It'll cost you five dollars."
"Ha! I'm not giving you money." He seems well off.
"A picture of my art is worth five dollars." His face is serious, but his eyes are laughing out loud.
I reach my floor, and I am in a fabulous mood now.
"See ya," I say as I leave the elevator.
"I'm rich you know!" And he laughs, as I watch him push the down button.
*Slang - a sly, knowing, or self-satisfied grin: somewhat vulgar
Webster's New World College Dictionary Copyright © 2005 by Wiley Publishing, Inc., Cleveland, Ohio.