The elevator

My office is on the 11th floor.
Every time i go down in the elevator, it - the elevator - hangs a little bit at the 8th floor, one would be fooled that it's gonna stop.
Why the 8th floor? i dunno ... it's always been like that ... But now ...
Everytime i go down in the elevator, my heart dangles with it ... it just stops for a fraction of a second ... anticpating the continuity of the journey ...
Will our story be the same? will this be just a dangling moment after which we'd continue together?
And everytime, i hold my breath ... will the door slide and you step in?
and then my breath comes out .. with a sigh ... coz that face is not like you ... that face doesn't catch my eyes like you do ...
And everytime, i wonder ... when i hit the ground floor ... will it be my destiny to reach the end of this short journey alone?
And everytime, i get lost in the thought ... when i pass through the gate, is this the gate of the past that i'm leaving behind? or will i find another gate? will we meet someday infront of it? if so, will we enter or withdraw?
And everytime, i walk up to the parking lot ... not looking for my car ... but for another car ... i can still smell the scent of the air refreshner inside it ... i still remember how you fold up the shades.
I get into my car ... driving down the same street ...
And i get out of my thoughts ... i have to go on ...
until another day ...
when i get into that elevator again.