Breathe

She knew something was going to go wrong during that holiday. It started with the nightmares that she had the previous night. It started with the excruciating headache she woke up with. She looked at the colorless sky, the weak sunshine and the way the fierce wind blew leaves off trees to the extent some fell out. She didn't want to go out of the house but she had an unusual craving for strawberries, and they were in the neighborhood grocery store. She wished she could ignore the cravings but they wouldn't go until they had been satisfied. So she decided she had no choice but to go out that day. As she walked into the lift, an old man hopped in with her, his walking stick in his hands. 

"Good morning," she muttered.

The old man nodded as a response to her greeting. She pushed the down arrow button leading to the ground floor. The old man watched as the arrow turned red. The elevator started moving... down, down, down it went. And all of a sudden, it stopped. She waited for the door to open. It didn't. Maybe she just had to be patient... and so she waited a little bit longer. It still did not open. She punched the button again and again. She wasn't sure if the elevator was already at the ground floor and if it was, why wasn't it opening? She felt a heavy rising in her chest, something was definitely wrong. And in a spark of panic, she pressed the alarm button. It rang out loud and suddenly, the lights went off. A great tremor overtook her.

"Oh Jesus...." She faintly whispered. Her head was swinging faster than ever. Power failure. Even though she knew it would not work, she kept on pressing the alarm button, and soon enough, the pressing turned into a frenzied punching. "Work...work...work," she said in her head. She looked around the metal room. She once heard of a woman who died in a collapsed elevator. She imagined the woman screaming, her chin trembling, not being able to think of anything apart from the shock of her going down with the lift. No one knew she was in there until the second day, when they wanted to fix it. And now, she was stuck in an elevator too.

"Breathe," the old man said and she blinked. 

Breathe. She did not realize she felt like suffocating until he said it.

"Breathe," he said again.

She rolled her eyes. Seriously? She was stuck in an elevator and she wasn't sure if she was going to live and yet, he was telling her to breathe? She knew that people would know that the elevator was occupied before the power outage because she had pressed the alarm before everything went off totally but still, she was scared.

"Breathe," the man said again.

It wasn't as easy as the slow and deliberate breathings she used to do for meditations. It was hard this time around, she had never forced herself to take in air... but now, she was closing her eyes and letting air flow through her nose. She had no choice. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. It made her aware that there was less fresh air.

"Breathe," the man kept on saying.

What the hell does he think I'm doing? she said to herself. She was frantic and in a hysterical moment, she began banging on the elevator door. It wasn't going to change anything and she wasn't going to be able to punch her way through the metal door. She did not mind that her knuckles hurt so much or that her fingers felt as though they wanted to break.  After a while, she slowly took her hands from the door and began to crying deliriously. The old man watched her. She felt strength seeping from her and she took short breathes in and out. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. It was the only thing she could do. She had wiped her eyes so much they were red and swollen. 

"Oh God!" It was all she could say while breathing and crying silently. God. God. God. Please. Please. Please. Her heart was going to jump out her chest if God didn't do something soon enough.

And all of a sudden, the door opened. They were at the ground floor all the while. A few people were in front, all wondering who had been stuck before the power went off. A few looked at the old man, some offering him silent sympathy by smiling...as though their smiling was going to erase all the trouble his old self had faced in the elevator. Then a few others faced her. They could all tell she had been crying and one or two squeezed her hands a little. 

"Are you fine?" Someone asked.

She nodded as she walked out.

"You sure?" Another asked.

She nodded again. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. She could breathe a bit better now. The old man smiled and walked away. She watched the movement of his walking stick and wondered if he had really not been worried all through the time in the elevator. As she crossed the road to the store, she inhaled and exhaled and then she laughed. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Her relief was so much that she could dance for joy. Fresh air. She had never cherished fresh air so much in her life. She thanked God that she had the old man with her in the lift. If she had been all alone, she was sure she would have gone totally insane. His calmness had soothed her maniacal self. She kept looking at the strawberries in plastic containers. They were all red. She closed her eyes and placed her palms on her chest. It was still beating heavily. Breathe. Breathe. Breath. She picked one pack and stood in a line. As the cashier put it into a nylon, she thanked her. And as she crossed the road again, she could hear the old man's reassuring voice in her head, "Breathe."