Three women in a lift

Story by njerimuchai@outlook.com

I’m on my way to hospital… a clinic rather, to see again, a doctor who’s treating my acne. It’s barely 8am, and there’s no traffic anywhere, human or otherwise. It’s free crossing all the way. In a minute, i’m inside an old building – put up in the 50s perhaps – navigating my way through back ways. The building has two towers, see?

I need to get to the other side, so I can take the lift that stops on the floor I’m going to. No, it’s not a dingy backstreet clinic. It’s a branch of one of Kenya’s finest medical institutions. But that’s not the story. The story begins when I find a lady waiting for the lift I want to take. I’d hoped I’d take it alone.

It’s here. She get’s in, and punches ’4′ on the panel and it turns red. I go next and punch ’6′. I remember that it has a problem so I’m not surprised when it doesn’t turn red immediately. I punch it 5 or 6 more times before it finally obeys. And then another woman, about 40 years old, enters the lift, glances at the panel, stands still as the doors slide shut, and then starts to hum. There are three of us now.

The first woman turns around and starts to check herself out. Her wig (which is horrible and coarse-looking) suits her perfectly. Like it was made for her and she made ONLY to wear it. Full story here