Her

The phone beeped loudly. She side glanced to see the text message that popped on the screen.

"I am dying to see you!"

She almost typed "me too" but deleted it and sent a simple ":)" instead. She decided to give this another try. One last try, just like the last time.

They looked at each other and greeted like they had just met. She smiled widely. Her smile disarmed him, it always managed to. He stood there unable to describe his vulnerability to himself. Was it her beauty, the radiance of her eyes or just her magical persona. He surrendered to the power of this stunning woman and the effect she had on him. They embraced each other. An embrace that was anything but platonic and lasted longer than she had expected. The sparks were beginning to fly.

They picked it up from where they had left it. Becoming young again, exchanging sweet nothings, occasional teasing, her boisterous laughter echoing through the woods.

Making her laugh never required too much effort.

Her laughter could be a poetry in itself, he thought. It was one of the first things he had noticed and fallen for. She laughed genuinely and wholeheartedly, no pretentiousness about it. Her energy was infectious. In one hour of her company, he forgot his realities and the burden of multiple roles he played in his life.

To be someone he used to be a decade ago liberated him. They were interrupted when his phone rang. "Shhh that's her" he signaled to her.

"Hi hun! In a meeting. Let me call you in an hour, okay?" he said calmly and hung up.

They met every single day, for several months. "Just one last time. Never again" she said to herself, slightly inebriated but without resisting his moves.

PS: Title is stolen but story is original :P

thoughts inside a box

He stood near the elevator for a few minutes debating in his head before finally deciding to enter. To say that he hated elevators would be an understatement. 

He pressed the button, took a deep breath and prayed silently. He hummed his favourite song and before he could realise, it was packed with all kinds of people.

A group of mean looking businessmen, a couple of old american women, a podgy middle aged man struggling to fit in with his protruding belly and a french bearded young gun, who seemed like he had decoded all of life's mysteries. It was a miracle how the elevator was still moving.

From just a pang of anxiety it went on to become a full blown panic attack. He began to sweat profusely. Getting into the elevator seemed like the worst decision he made today. Every second seemed to stretch into eternity, minutes seemed like hours. After the 12th floor, his mind stopped functioning normally. His train of thought slowly wandered into that moment of a time long gone. A drop of sweat slowly trickled from his forehead. He glanced at the nonchalant american ladies who looked unbelievably calm and collected. "How can they stay so calm?!" he muttered under his breath.

In his head this was like a glass box, unbreakable and coming threateningly close to his body. He tried to divert his mind trying to think of cheerful images. Long stretches of paddy fields, bright yellow tulips that he loved as a child. Nothing seemed to work and he went back to waiting for what seemed to have lasted several years.

The doors opened slowly and a typical Mediterranean female voice declared, "32nd floor". He leapt out of the elevator like it was on fire.

Claustrophobia, because the only time a person should be in a box is when he is no more.