One more thing I won’t miss about this place,” Carie grumbled as she held her cellphone to her ear. The elevator suddenly jolted to a halt, stuck...between floors. "Shit,” Carie spat, cursing the vindictive contraption.“What?” her friend Mona asked on the other end of the line.She pushed the floor button repeatedly. “The elevator is stuck.”“Oh, shoot. Press the emergency button.”“Give it a second. It’ll get going again. It’ll probably fly through the roof next.”“Sounds like a fun ride.”Carie. Over the next six months we saw more and more of each other, exchanging visits for dinner and drinks and meeting in London for nights out. In the course of it all I discovered they were much like me in their tastes and growing sense of disillusionment and dissatisfaction and we often sat about, sipping drinks and discussing what we’d like to do and why. In retrospect it’s obvious they were both testing me, egging me to assess just how serious I was and what my tastes were.Things came to a head. More

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