Who is that idiot in the elevator?

“Who is that idiot stuck in that elevator.” Gregory turned to his side to look at the person standing next to him while the two strangers stood in front of the shiny elevator doors. The man looked about forty years old with a red, shiny face and a bulging stomach. Gregory sighed, not wanting to deal with this impatient person. After having to work for ten hours yesterday and then go back to work the next day, he felt exhausted standing in the grimy hallway on the fifth floor of his apartment building. He nodded his head, remarking the man as Gregory squinted at the light shining through from the dusty window.

          The man balanced a large white box with his one chubby hand and with the other, he opened the box. The strong smell of glazed pastries filled the hallway. The man’s childlike brown eyes widened at the sight of the donuts. He selected one and swiftly shoved it into his mouth. Crumbs fell onto the floor from the man disgustingly chewing with his mouth open, lips smacking. He licked his sticky lips with delight and patted his stomach in content.

         The man looked up at Gregory and said, “Want one?” He took the box with both hands and heaved it right under Gregory’s nose and shook it violently, the donuts clattering in the box. The pungent smell of the all too sugary donuts caused Gregory to take a step back and gently push the box away from his face.

         “No thanks.” Gregory said, politely declining the offer to eat the fat man’s sickening donuts.

         The man heavily sighed and groaned, “What is taking so long?” He anxiously tapped his foot and checked his watch every ten seconds.

         “I’m sure it will open up.” Gregory said, comfortingly as he tried to hold back his fiery tongue, his tolerance growing thin. Many years of having to work day after day with bad-tempered people had taken its toll on his patience for others. Instead of yelling at the annoying man, he bit the inside of his cheeks as he concentrated on the rusty colored floor, old and worn from many years of abuse. The steel elevators doors swished open, making a sonorous screech. A woman with sleek, black hair down to her waist walked out, her heels clacking against the floor. She turned to face the two men. Her bright violet eyes switched from the pudgy man to Gregory and then back again. After a few awkward seconds, her gaze finally looked directly into Gregory’s eyes and at that second he realized who it was.

         “Oh my god!” Gregory said. He backed away, his heart pounding deafeningly in his chest. “It,” he gulped, “cannot be you.”

         “ Wait, I need to talk to you.” She said, pacing forward in his direction

         “Get away from me!” he yelled. His hand flew up in an effort to cover his face in case she tried to attack him. He backed away from her, nearly tripping on the rugged carpet, trying to get as far away from her as possible. The one person he had tried to get away from all these years now stood in front of him. But the look on her face was not menacing as he had remembered. The countenance on her face was desperate and frantic.

         “Please,” she begged cautiously stepping toward him, “I need you to help me. They found me.” Dread coated her voice as she struck him with a look of dismay.

          Gregory’s eyes widened with horror and shock as he tried to swallow the panic that was now creeping up his throat. “Are they here now?” he asked her.

         “No,” she said, “but they will be.”