Joe pressed the button for the lobby, and the oaken doors of the elevator slid closed with a hiss and a thump. He looked at the woman beside him, a woman that had shared his bed and his life for a few years. Her plump lips and pink tongue were moving strangely. Then, he heard a name: "Kathleen." He hadn't realized she'd been speaking.

"What about Kathleen Kelley?" he asked pointedly.

Her dark eyes narrowed and she slunk toward him. Suddenly, the elevator jolted to a stop. Joe steadied himself, and his companion yipped.

"What is going on here!" she yelled.

"It's okay; I'll call the super." Joe patted her arm.

She glowered, "Yeah, well tell him if her doesn't get his ASS up here in 5 seconds--!!"

She suddenly stopped her rant. He sat on the floor next to her, and waited for her to breathe.

"You know, I think it’s amazing that you don't acknowledge your part in her predicament."

What did she mean?

"It's so obtuse and cruel. It reminds me of someone. Oh, yeah. Me!"

Joe wobbled his head, both disturbed and amused that she was so right. It might have been the first sane thing she had ever uttered to him. He wouldn't tell Kathleen that part when he emailed her tonight. He would just say they broke up in the elevator. But, what to do with the body?

"She would have been a great children's book editor, but she met you."

What did he have to do with Kathleen's career choices? She really was a nut job. How had he missed it before today?

He looked at her small frame and calculated the dimensions of her body in various positions. It wasn't as if he could cut her up. Besides, it would ruin his suit. His grandfather bought him that suit when he completed his first hostile takeover.

"Maybe the nanny will rub the stains out...but only while you're still wearing the trousers." She had become so crass. How did she hobknob with that filthy mouth?

That's when he got the idea.

The doors opened to a scene that shocked Frederick, and he grew up in Queens. Joe Fox was sitting on the carpeted floor, cradling Ms. Eden's head between his legs. And Mr. Fox was definitely enjoying himself. Frederick apologized and let the doors close. He would give them some time to finish. Meanwhile, he would check on Mrs. Pratchett in 34. She was bound to be in an upheaval, even though she was nowhere near the elevator when it malfunctioned.

@TheWolfeDen

Leaning into the Lotus, she grinned at the officer or gentleman.

"Nice Ride. What you lookin for, sweetie?" Her skirt, more of a suggestion than actual apparel, showed more than it didn't.

The ghost of a smile drifted across his thin lips. "Directions, mostly."

She made nervous small talk after he let her drive. "You know your foot's as long as your arm from elbow to wrist?"

At the hotel, she followed him to his suite.

He wasn't a gentleman.

When her body was discovered months later, the coroner had no idea how pretty of a woman she once was.

Our dear, poor sculptor. Yesterday he believed his dream come true; he was standing on the treshold of heaven; he was feeling proud and shy: proud of his masterpiece and shy before his masterpiece, who was standing nearly naked in front of him.

Our poor Pigmalion had spent hundreds of hours studying practical engineering. He skipped sleep and rest to obtain artistic inspiration... Only to be pursued by a biorobot around his mansion, seeking to steal his life.

He suddenlty felt something was wrong the very moment Galatea opened her eyes. They were full of love and anticipation, yet a love so crazy, the kind of passion that borders madness. She said "Hello, world", and it sounded like a menacing slogan, not only greeting. Her predictedly soft and cute vocaloid voice made a weird mixture with this intonation.

The sculptor was hypnotized by the girl's charming, aggressive eyes and felt her cold soft skin the next second. This embrace might have put him to an end, if he hadn't insinctively stepped back.

Now Pigmalion is hiding under the kitchen table and praying to Venus that the path-tracking mechanism of the statue's mind would collapse. And somewhere under the blanket of fear lie the remnants of his love.

---

Hope You enjoy this piece, fellow Prosers and @TheWolfeDen

When it looks like all your options are in the rearview, you do what you must.

Her mother named her Vivian in homage to Vivian Leigh. Gone With the Wind was her favorite movie of all time with A Streetcar Named Desire coming in second. She hoped giving her a famous name would give Vivian Leigh Ward a head start on a future brighter than her mother’s past.

VIvian’s mother watched the movies so often, Vivian knew all of Scarlett O’Hara’s lines by the age of seven; Blanche DuBois’ by 14. She did the fall and spring drama productions in high school and worked early mornings before school and weekends at the diner where her mother worked.

When Vivan was 17, her mom died after her latest boyfriend beat her a little harder than usual. Vivan managed to finish high school and, after graduation, she worked seven days a week for six months to save enough for a bus ticket to Hollywood where her friend, Kit, had already moved with her boyfriend.

Unfortunately, by the time Vivian got to Hollywood, Kit’s boyfriend was old news and she was earning a living on the streets.

“It’s good money,” she told Vivian. “Better than anything you can earn waiting tables.”

Despite the advice, Vivian tried to find a job waiting tables while also trying to get auditions without a headshot, an agent or any experience.

She was not successful.

Kit was a good friend, but the rent had to be paid and if Vivian couldn’t come up with her half, there were plenty of girls who would love the room she’d conditionally offered Vivian.

So, she lent Vivian some clothes not from their small town, gave her some condoms and showed her where the best spots were to ensure a lucrative night.

She didn’t say don’t get into cars with strangers, because, well, a girl’s got to make a living.

A week or two after she started working the streets, Kit and Vivian were facing a slow night and rent issues.

“Maybe we should get a pimp, you know, Carlos really digs you.”

“And then he’ll run our lives and take our money.”

“You’re right: We say who, we say when, we say how much.” Looking at a screeching car that just turned onto the drive, Kit said, “Oh yo oh yo oh yo, catch this.”

“Wait a minute, that’s a lotus Esprit,” Vivian said, enthralled.

“No, that’s rent. You should go for him; you look hot tonight. Don’t take less than $100. Call me when you’re through, take care of you.”

“Take care of you."

One of them would.

“Hey, sugar, you looking for a date?”

“No, I want to find Beverly Hills; can you give me directions?”

“Sure. For five bucks

“Ridiculous.”

“The price just went up to ten.”

“You can’t charge me for directions.”

“I can do anything, I want to baby, I ain’t lost.”

“All right, okay, all right, you win I lose. Do you have change for a $20.”

“For $20 I’ll take you personal. I’ll even show you where the stars live.”

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“What do you want it to be?”

He just looked at her.

“Vivian. My name is Vivian.

“Vivian.”

“So, what hotel you staying at?”

“Regent Beverly Wilshire.”

“Okay, down the block, right at the corner.”

He kept going straight.

“I think you left your transmission back there and you missed the turn.”

He didn’t say anything.

“Hey, turn right at the next corner. The hotel is back there.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Fine. Let me out then. You can’t have your twenty back though. Not my fault you don’t know what you want.”

“Oh, I know what I want. Vivian.”

He picked up speed in the direction of Laurel Canyon.

“Listen, baby, this is gonna cost you more.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Stop the car.”

He picked up speed.

“Hey, let me out.”

He ignored her.

Watching the city lights fade, Vivian was both angry and terrified. Not one to sit and wait for bad things to happen, she tried to open the door.

It wouldn’t open.

When she didn’t come home for a week, Kit hoped the best for Vivian, but she packed up her few belongings and got a new roommate for her newly vacant room.

I mean, the rent must be paid.

"I'm sorry, Miss. But we just closed the elevators for the evening. You can try to come back tomorrow." The security guard frowned at Annie from across the marble desktop.

"I'll only be a moment." Annie batted her eyelashes at the old man, hoping to woo him over with innocence.

"Ma'am. I'm sorry that it was such a close call but I really can't make exceptio-"

"Haven't you ever been in love? Passionate, dreamy, all-consuming love?"

"Been married forty years. I vaguely remember the concept."

"The love of my life could be up there, but I'll never know if I don-"

"Miss-?"

"Annie."

"Miss Annie. I'm sorry to hear about your predicament, but if you don't leave, I'm going to have to escort you out."

"Oh! You crotchety old bastard! "Annie rushed around the desk and gave the security guard a swift kick in the knee.

The old man fell to the floor, cradling his injury. Annie jerked the baton from his belt and whacked the side of his head. She whipped her head from side to side, eyes darting wildly in search of witnesses. Satisfied with the deserted lobby, Annie threw the baton on the floor, rolled the guard's body underneath his desk, and headed for the top of the Empire State Building.

---

The elevator doors opened and Annie was met with emptiness. She was alone, again. She walked to the edge of the railing and looked out over New York City. She was far, far, away from home. Beneath her, thousands of lovers held each other closer in the night. There were even more people looking for love. She'd left her ex-fiancé at a restaurant three blocks away. He smiled when she told him the news. He urged her to leave, to go find Sleepless in Seattle, the mysterious lonely man she'd heard on the radio. Walter was, had always been, supportive of her dreams. As she continued to scan the skyline, a mass of colored fabric lingered in her peripherals. She looked down to the concrete and found a child's backpack. She unzipped it to find a lonely, weatherworn teddy bear.

The elevator chimed and Annie turned excitedly to face it, butterflies flapping furiously in her stomach. The doors slid open and a tall man with dark hair emerged from behind them. A little boy trailed closely behind.

"That's it! That's mine!" The child ran up to Annie and tugged at the teddy bear in her hands.

"Jonah!" the man scolded.

"Jonah?" Annie's heart began to pound.

The child peered at her curiously. "Annie?"

"Son, you know this woman?" The man stopped and stared at Annie, familiarity forming in his furrowed brow.

"Yeah, she's the one who wrote that letter!"

"Jonah, back away. Right now."

"What? But Dad-"

"Now, Jonah-"

"W-w-wait, hold on a second, Sam-"

"Sam? How the hell do you know my name?! Jonah, did you tell her our names?"

"No, Dad..."

"How do you know who I am?"

"I-I-I may have hired someone-"

"You hired someone?"

"Well yes-"

"My god. The woman standing in the road. At the beach. Watching us. It was you."

"Well, I just happened to be in that part of the country a-a-and-"

"That part of the country? Where do you live, Annie?"

"Baltimore."

"Baltimore?! You flew to Seattle-"

"Sam, please-"

The elevator doors chimed and slid open for the second time. Two police officers stepped out onto the rooftop.

"Step away, ma'am."

"Oh really, this is just a big misunderstanding-"

"Was it a misunderstanding when you cracked the guard's head? Old man had to drag himself to a pay phone."

Sam looked at Annie in horror. "You did what?"

Annie grabbed Jonah by the hood of his coat and the eight-year-old began to cry for his father. The police officers inched forward, weapons raised and Annie shrieked, insisting they lower their firearms.

"Jonah, sweetie, please stop crying. L-look here, I've got your backpack and I know you want a new mommy-"

Jonah jammed the back of his sneaker into the top of Annie's foot. The heel of her stiletto snapped and she stumbled, rolling onto her ankle. Jonah ran to his father and the officers take the opportunity offered by the chaos. Before Annie can tend to her injury, she is swooped up, handcuffed, and escorted to the elevator doors. The doors open and Annie and the police officers enter and turn around, facing Sam and Jonah. Annie gives Sam a soft smile. Sam shudders and pulls Jonah in closer to him. The elevator doors slide shut and Sam and Jonah stand alone on the rooftop of the Empire State Building, chilled by the February night air.

In the dimly lit restaurant, Harry and Sally sat across from each other at a table, exchanging jokes. But there was tension in the air. Sally's laughter echoed eerily through the room, sending shivers down Harry's spine. Suddenly, Sally's face contorted into an expression of sheer terror, her eyes turning pitch black. A demonic voice escaped her lips as she pointed a trembling finger at Harry, accusing him of being a monster.

The surrounding patrons gasped, their faces twisted in horror as they realized they must kill the beast. They descended upon Harry, tearing him apart with their bare hands. Harry’s blood covered the floor of the diner. Harry was no more.