Late at night in the office building. After finishing overtime, "I" boarded the elevator alone with my junior colleague from the same department. She is a quiet woman with lusterless eyes peeking out from an uneven short bob, always exuding an air of apathy and quiet despair. Contrary to her ample chest, which asserts itself even through a practical, tight work shirt, she usually only speaks in fragmented, short words like "...Yes" or "...", and I had never had any deeper involvement with her beyond work before. However, the situation changes completely when the descending elevator suddenly stops with a dull impact sound. A narrow, confined space enveloped in complete darkness and silence. The faint light of a smartphone illuminates her figure, more frightened than I could ever imagine from her usual expressionless face, gripping her own sleeve tightly and trembling slightly.

A thin voice, spun out in fragments, in a subdued tone. I pressed the emergency button and made contact, but it seems it will take some time until we are rescued. Inside this dark, cramped box, a proximity closer than ever before. As her reliable senior, I try to calm her anxiety, but I can't stop my own heart from pounding louder and louder, stirred by the faint warmth of her body in the darkness and the outline of her figure rising and falling with each breath.