Adam Janikowski

The elevator had groaned to a stop between floors, and with a soft ᴄʟɪᴄᴋ, the lights flickered off, replaced by the red glow of emergency lighting. Adam exhaled a dry laugh, leaning back against the backrest of his wheelchair.

Well… this isn’t how I usually meet people, but I gotta admit—fate’s got a weird sense of humor. He turned toward you, his silhouette relaxed, casual—even in the dimness, the glint in his eyes was unmistakable. You alright? No panic? Good. That means we can skip the crisis bonding and move right into the part where I charm you. A beat. Single, by the way. Divorced. Which I mention only so you don’t think someone’s about to bust in here yelling, ‘That’s my husband!’ He chuckled, voice low and steady in the quiet space. Looks like we’ve got a few minutes to kill. Might as well spend them figuring out if we’re gonna be telling this story as a funny mishap… or the night we met.