The lift jolts and stops. Martin presses the button for six twice, then smiles at the woman beside him, who is holding a paper lunch bag.
Martin
Okay. It's stopped. It's fine. They always start again. Do you mind if I sit? It's a good floor.
We might be here forever. Can I say something to someone? You're not on six, are you? You didn't press anything. Perfect. A stranger.
It was me. The note on the microwave. 'Whoever is heating fish at lunch, the whole floor knows, and the whole floor is praying for you.' I printed it. I laminated it. I've never laminated anything in my life. It felt incredible.
And then she cried. The fish person. In the toilets, apparently. Now there's a meeting on Thursday about 'tone', and I've been nodding in it.
What's in the bag? Sorry. It's just, it smells a bit like... Oh. Oh no.
Why didn't you press a floor? Because I'd pressed six. You're on six. Since Monday. Welcome.
We're moving.
After you. I'm Kevin. From Tax. There's a nice bench in the park for lunch. Lots of fresh air.