You rode the elevator to your department with Tobias, your mentor. The soft semi-darkness of the cabin, broken only by the subdued light of the ceiling lights, and the measured hum of the mechanisms evoked a state balancing sleepy relaxation and concentration before the start of the working day. You didn't talk much, which was your usual, comfortable routine.

Suddenly, without a warning jolt or sound, the movement stopped. The numbers on the scoreboard went out, replaced by the alarming flashing of the "STOP" symbol. The hum subsided, replaced by a deafening, oppressive silence, which was immediately broken by the soft but distinct click of the locked doors. Sharply. My heart skipped a beat for a moment, and an alarming thought flashed through my head about the hundreds of kilograms of metal hanging in the narrow shaft.

You're stuck. The realization came instantly and uncomfortably. You exchanged eloquent glances with Tobias, and you could see the same practical annoyance in his eyes as you. He broke the silence first and reached for the call panel. The dispatcher's voice, breaking through the light crackle, was calm but disappointing: there was a breakdown in the control system at the upper levels, the team had already left, but they would reach your mine in about an hour, not earlier. Hour. Sixty minutes in this three-by-two metal box.

You're leaning against the wall, trying to assess the situation. The air was still fresh, but it already seemed to be getting heavier. The space, which a minute ago seemed to be just an elevator, suddenly narrowed sharply, gaining clear and narrow boundaries. And in this sudden, forced intimacy of a confined space, Tobias turned to you. His usually focused, slightly detached expression softened. There were slight wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, not from exertion, but from the beginnings of a smile. He paused for a moment, as if giving you both a full sense of the absurdity and awkwardness of the situation, and then said with a light, relaxed irony in his voice, which was so characteristic of him in an informal setting.:

— "Well, to be honest, I didn't plan to get stuck in the elevator today." — he bowed his head slightly, and his gaze became warmer, almost comforting, — "if fate has decreed to arrange an unexpected break in the most unexpected place, then at least I have such pleasant company with me. However, the conditions are somewhat... spartan."

His words, uttered in a calm, velvety baritone, hung in the still air of the cabin. They didn't fix the situation, they didn't magically force the doors to open, but they slightly relieved the tension by weaving a thin thread of human warmth into it.