Perpetual

'She would be so proud of you, my love. You two - well, you two would have been unstoppable together', said Del, beneath watering eyes and fatherly profoundness. 'Firm friends... that's for sure'.

Casey Sinclair merely mustered a hearty grin, she had better be off, she didn't want to be late for her interview.

Elevator or stairs?

...elevator... or those long, endless, winding stairs. The decision ran through Casey's brain with a total eclipse of her focus.

Casey's job interview was on the 17th floor, and the nervous sweats were already kicking in.

Elevator!

Casey paused, having entered the building with hasty readiness. She cowered beneath the large chunk of notes in her hand, but soon she realised that this place was already chaotic enough. None of these rushers gave two shits about her... and that's the way she liked it. But sometimes she longed for feeling - for somebody to notice her... after all she couldn't help anyone being invisible.

'Storm Darren', barked the receptionist, 'who comes up with the names for storms? Seriously... I mean Darren isn't the most scary of names!'

Casey knew the answer, but she never was the most gregarious person around, certainly in the bottom half in this mad land... that's for sure. She had been sitting for so long that her legs felt like jelly beneath her. As she stood, she wiggled and stood upright - pencil - dive - positioned, readying for the most difficult part of her journey. She grappled onto her temporary security tag and marched toward an elevator. It opened, far without its own hesitation. Her trembles were profuse, just as the elevator doors closed behind her.

There was a gigantic mirror inside, punishing to the ugly people in the world. Casey gawped with sudden panic. Her hair had been thrown out a skew by Darren... Fucking Darren. The Storm, not her high school boyfriend! She reddened with humiliation and hurried to put it back to its sensible and well- tamed positioning. Her puffy cheeks were beetroot red and the impending river of sweat atop her forehead was readying its splash. She had a spare hairband on her wrist for such emergencies, and a small flannel in her purse to mop up the nervous sweats. This flannel was modest in size, surely unable to combat seventeen flights of stairs. The elevator... the right call.

A volatile shudder threw Casey's balance perplexed. She face-planted the deck and her hands sprawled wide beside her still settlement. 'Are you OK?' she said, remembering that she wasn't really alone before the lift's springs had failed them.

She rolled over, placing the flannel over her bloodied nose and pinching it with a wince on her face. An older woman resided next to her, standing tall and poignant, unmoved by the inner quake. A hand hovered around hers, before pulling her upwards, as if, in that brief moment... the innards of the lift had zero gravity. Casey's vision traveled blank with opaqueness again. She couldn't see a thing with eyelids so heavy, and a singular fear so ignited. She felt a brushing atop her head. 'I'm late. I'm claustrophobic... and I'm stuck in a fucking lift!' The visage beside Casey hardened in form, smiling and stealing the flannel from Casey's grip. 'I've been waiting for an opportunity like this for five months. Rejection after rejection... today was meant to be the day', stuttered Casey, grimacing with pain, as the bruising below her eyes began to deepen.

'They will understand. You're on time... help is coming... nothing can stop you now', said Casey's elevator buddy. 'I just wanted to make a difference... to use the law for good. And I don't care... I don't care if that means that I have to take shitty jobs like this. I need to be here... because I know... in my heart... that the law needs more people like me. And I've missed it all, thanks to this FUCKING SHITTY LIFT!'

Casey's speech ended with a swift kick to the side of the broken vehicle, encouraging the light's flicker to become epileptic- challenging.

'Why you?' replied her lift partner.

Casey stood from her crouched spot, 'this is too much - I need to get out of here', said Casey beneath ruined makeup and flowing clamminess. 'You'll face tougher obstacles if this is the path you choose. Why you? Why the law?'

Casey stood firm. Her body pointed to the flickering roof, as if it was working with 100% efficiency. 'The law is precious. It's sacred. It exists to protect people, to make people better, to emancipate the suffers, to enlighten the world. But too many use it as a tool to win. An adversarial system that uses capitalist gain as a justification for cruelty and callousness. I say, no more. No more will the cruel and the privileged avert justice. I'm here for justice - I'm on the side of the truth... and what's the kindest, compassionate and empathetic route. What's the worst thing that will happen when we are just kind? So... just be kind... and if that means I have to be patient and frustrated again, then so be it. This is my one life... my miracle... and I intent to do some goodness with it'.

A soft silence lasted. The lift's light sparkled again and the mechanisms whirred their natural tones.

Onward!

'I understand. You are strong. Never forget that strength, but don't forget to lean on other people occasionally... you will need to... we all do. Did you forget?'

Who are you?

Just as they finished their sentence, the elevator doors opened - The 17th Floor.

The blood from her nose had clotted, and the flip - side of her flannel cleaned her face with so much ease. She stepped out of the elevator doors... along with nobody else. Casey wasn't alone, neither would she ever be again. She exited without knowing what really happened, but her confidence and reassurance of her place in the world had never been stronger. She walked upward and with resurging confidence, for Casey Sinclair had a job to get today.