I ces…

The elevator is still broken.

 

And yet we are standing here in the hallway and the elevator door opens with its' typical binging sound.

 

BING!

 

The elevator is still broken.

 

And yet we are standing here in the hallway of my penthouse above the fifteenth floor of the apartment-house on 666, Whitaker Lane, in Bromford, the friendly town by the bay and seaside and the elevator doors open with their typical binging bing bang…

 

BANG!

 

Stay focused, Bromford. More focus.

 

Rhomboid forms and shapes.

 

O

P._._._.E

ßN._._._._._._.Hà

E._._._.R

E

 

Open here.

 

»Where is that treasure map?« I ask no one in particular.

 

»In your hands, Mister Bibble«, Mr. Sideburns we used to call Mr. Burnside says without any trace of mocking in his voice.

 

»Watch out!«

 

Kylie shouts out as I take a few steps towards the open elevator doors.

 

But this time - although the elevator is still broken - the elevator cabin is on penthouse level. I do not look fifteen storeys deep into the empty elevator shaft.

 

»Did somebody call the elevator?« Kylie asks.

 

»Did somebody send it up here?« Nigel adds.

 

And I think and finally say, »Look at the buttons on the elevator panel. What do you lot think about it?«

 

🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳

🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳

🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳🔳

Today is Wednesday, the 21st of September 2022.

Ice Elevator.