Key in the service lock, you let me in. You waved me through like a man with a job. I stepped where you pointed. Metal rang once in the lock. Vent air came down on the back of my neck. You watched the dark end of the hall. You did not look at me at all, you smiled when the latch fell shut. I heard it catch. You heard it too. You never turned around. Key in your hand. You turned it, I walked in. Key in your hand. You turn it, I stay in. You let me through, then you owned the way back. You gave me a hall, and you keep the door. Elevator stood open, bright and dead. You held the edge. You did not get in. I crossed the floor. Your hand stayed low, down near the key again. Tile went cold straight through my boots. A chain pulled tight somewhere I couldn't see. Nothing said stop. Nothing said wrong. Just your breath on the lit side of me. I saw it then. You knew the route. You knew what would close. Key in your hand. You turned it, I walked in. Key in your hand. You turn it, I stay in. You let me through, then you owned the way back. You gave me a hall, and you keep the door. Loading bay black at the far end. Elevator gone from the wall. Handle locked solid under my hand. Bolt drawn clean from outside. You were not lost. You were not late. You were waiting, hand on the bolt. One turn. One click. You said my name, and you smiled again. Key in your hand. You turned it, I walked in. Key in your hand. You turn it, I stay in. You let me through, then you owned the way back. You gave me a hall, and you keep the door. Key in your hand. Still in your hand. Fluorescent light keeps burning. Metal cools in the frame. You're out there with the key. I'm in here with the hum.
