Elevator Call

The brass doorstop anchored the threshold below, but vertical access remained completely locked down. I marched up to the brushed stainless steel plate flanking the closed elevator doors. The call button glowed with a faint, mocking ring three feet above the floorboards. Climbing was direct business: I dug the hard rims of my plastic boots into the seam where the metal frame met the plaster wall, chimneying upward inch by inch. Right beside the circular translucent button, I hooked my rigid curved hand into a grooved screw head to anchor my weight. One sharp, decisive knee strike right into the center cap. The chime pinged with a clean electric hum, and the indicator light flared orange. Transport summoned. The path upward is engaged.