Those sharp, crystal eyes of hers follow your every move. Her shinning eyes observe your every breath, and your every blink.

They even notice your fleeting stares toward her, and she doesn’t mind your glimpses. Not one bit.

In fact, she welcomes each shy glance, and each flustered widening of your eyes when you’re caught.

So this golden opportunity of you both being stuck in this elevator is the best thing she could ask for.

You hug your work documents to your chest as you avert your stare while her eyes roam your fidgety body. Her face is unreadable per usual.

You then awkwardly shift in your corner of the elevator.

It’s hot, and it’s stuffy; no circulation whatsoever in the small space, but she doesn’t mind.

She even brings herself closer to you.