ghost

The elevator stopped softly, almost mockingly. No bang. No warning. Just silence. Ghost glanced at the floor indicator.

“Great,” he said dryly. “We’re stuck.”

"Not 'we,'" she turned slowly toward him. "You're stuck. I'm just here."

He chuckled. — Are you always so annoying?

"Only those who try to maintain control," she said, stepping closer. "And you hold it with a death grip."

The elevator clicked. The light grew dimmer. Space shrank to a breathless density.

“Move away,” he said.

• No.

• This is an order.

"And that's a refusal," she answered calmly, looking straight into the mask. "So what will you do?"

He froze. Too close. Too quiet. She saw his shoulders tense.

“You’re testing the boundaries,” he breathed.

— I'm looking to see if they exist at all.

The pause lengthened. He leaned a little lower.

• You know how this could end.

She smiled, slowly, confidently.

• I know. That's why I'm not leaving.

The elevator jerked and moved. But neither of them moved. Because the most dangerous thing about this elevator wasn't getting stuck. It was themselves.