Sitting at the table with an empty pad of paper and a pen I had wanted to begin writing something, a poem, a story, maybe even a novel. All it would take is for me to pick up the pen and start and yet, I kept feeling things spin in my head as I struggled with what I was going to write. Each time I'd be certain I was ready, I'd grab the pen, but my mind would twirl off, twisting and whirling around, whirling around... well whirling around the tall black man I could just see if I peeked to my right.
From what I could see during my intermittent peeks was this man wearing a pair of nicely pressed khaki trousers with a wide belt. His shirt was also khaki colored, it looked to be some type of uniform. A uniform was nice, but either way each time I'd steal a glance my fantasy would twist away from me. First it was the elevator...
...large black fingers wrapped firmly around my bicep as he led me toward the elevator. His grip was firm, but not painful, he wanted me to understand he was in control, but did not have a desire to cause me any further harm. The elevators were slow and while we waited a sizable crowd collected, all waiting for a ride up or down. When I heard a loud ding and saw a red light in the shape of an upward pointing arrow light up I felt the grip on my arm tighten.
"Now listen," the black man said to me, "You are to get on this elevator and stand right next to me. You are not to look at, talk to or touch any of the others on the elevator. Do you think you can do this?"
