Party Gags

I slammed on the button that would take me down to the lobby, my breath uneven and short. My body shook from anger, a headache blossoming behind my eyes. I pinched the bridge of my nose, leaning against the wall as the elevator took me down to the lobby, where I would walk through the doors for probably the last time. The thought brought on another wave of stress, crashing over me like a wave in the ocean. A groan escaped from my teeth, as if that would make things any better. It wasn’t until moments later that I noticed another man had stepped into the elevator. He was wearing a suit and tie, a briefcase in his left hand, his right hand in his pants pocket. His hair, wavy and black, was long enough to be pushed behind his ears, which held up glasses that rested on his face. Overall, he seemed like a very charming man, probably in his late twenties or early thirties, but with all the cosmetics these days, he could be forty and look like he just got out of college. He turned to me and smiled, his eyebrows pinching together when he noticed the expression on my face.
“You look stressed out. Did you have a bad day?” The young man asked, tilting his head slightly to one side.
I let out a dry laugh, “You don’t know the half of it.”
“I know we’ve only just met, but since we’re going to be here awhile, would you like to talk about it?” He asked, his voice smooth and calm, like he was some sort of therapist. Maybe that’s what the briefcase is for, I thought, watching him closely. Thinking about what he said, I noticed that the elevator wasn’t moving, and that the number above the door was now replaced by a red dash. Fantastic. Just what I need.
“I got in a fight with my wife and she kicked me out,” I muttered, still staring at the red dash. “I can’t get a job because of a medical condition and she bitches at me because I can’t provide for the family.” I turned to the man, and I noticed that he was watching me with great interest, which was odd, since the only time I ever had someone stare at me like that is when I’ve had a psychotic fit in the middle of the sidewalk while walking somewhere. This guy, though, seemed genuinely interested in what I was saying, which lightened the feeling of hopelessness in my gut.
“Sounds like you’d be better off without her,” The man said, almost sympathetically. Almost.
“ That’s what I was thinking, I’m just worried about my daughter,” I rambled, watching the stranger carefully. You could never be too cautious about who you talked to these days.
He smiled, making him look even younger than he already was. It was one that you could trust, that could convince a man to rob a bank if there was a good reason. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. Her father seems like a good enough man.”
The words brought a smile to my face, something that hasn’t happened in the longest time.
The elevator gave a dangerous lurch before it started moving again, lowering us to the lobby. “I never caught your name,” I mentioned, looking at the man again. He turned back to me and smiled brighter, pulling one hand out of his pocket and holding it out to me. I shook it, and he handed me a card with a phone number on it.
“Dr. Jonathan Crane, and yourself?”
“Peter Barker”