Flash Fiction: The Elevator

The doors were just closing. He stuck his arm inside to hold them open, joining her in the elevator. Her breath froze for a moment. 

No, it would be okay. He was large, but this was a luxury hotel. It was fine. She was safe. 

He pressed the button for the eighth floor. She let out her breath. Her floor was the twenty-seventh.

The elevator chimed and the light on number eight went out. The doors opened, but he didn’t leave. Two men waiting stepped inside, nodding to the man beside her.

The doors closed.