Excerpt of “Anna and the Mountain” by Nevena Mitropolitska

Chapter 26

“Are you going up or down?”

“Down,” it was her sleepy kneejerk reaction.

“Up, up,” several folk called out simultaneously, and one pointed his finger at the ceiling to win the point.

The pimply Chinese man who’d posed the question, blinked in confusion and stood rooted on his spot. The metal lift door slid in front of him and he disappeared from her eyes.

Not only did no one look at her accusingly, but there were no signs she was noticed at all. Everyone stood up straight and immobile with characterless expressions on their yellow neon-lit faces.

“Fourth Floor. Going up,” the recorded female voice was cold and as steady as the door which gaped in front of her. A short freckled girl entered and her freckles paled out straight away. The others made way for her and however much they were crowded, they still managed to arrange themselves so that no-one touched anyone else. What’s touch to you when it’s practically illegal? You wrap yourself in a thick layer of anonymity and you become invulnerable, you become Superman. Calm and balanced. The whole lift full of super-folk, and she, Anna, alone among them.

“Fifth Floor. Going up.” Once again movement from inside and out. And still going up. Wouldn’t it have been better to get off? The iron cage crawled upwards bringing her closer and closer to him.

“Sixth floor. Going up.” Why on earth was she doing this? To give him yet another chance to take advantage of her. So that she felt once again like a hysterical lunatic up against his normality and equilibrium.

“Eighth floor. Going up.” How many times had she phoned him in these last three days? Twenty? Thirty? It’s true that as soon as she heard his voice, she’d cut him off, she’d lacked the strength to speak. But hadn’t he at least seen it was her? Couldn’t he at least have said something? If he really loved her wouldn’t he have spared her the disgrace of apologising to him? A big black man moved towards the door turning his back towards her. His broad shoulders, bulging beneath his black T-shirt, hampered her view.

“Ninth Floor. Going up.” Following the young man with the broad back, another three got out. The shiny metal box had almost emptied and began to look lonely. Best for her to get off, before it reached the twelfth – to save herself the last crumbs of dignity. What on earth would Caleb think about her idiotic proposal? What was his surprise, when she called for an appointment? OK he clearly didn’t make a song and dance - wasn’t he a polite Canadian? But there was no way he could hide it from her. He’d probably ask her why she hadn’t suggested to Paul that they write the bloody article. And what could she tell him when it was obvious Paul was more suitable?

“Tenth Floor. Going up.” And well, what if she came across Paul and he pretended not to see her? If he just nodded and walked away. And if he told her it was all over?

“Eleventh floor. Going u