She apologized for using the elevator, just to get to the third floor. “It’s been a long day,” she said.
“I get it,” I said. And then decided to flirt with her, on the ride up.

I told her I thought the elevator smelled like marijuana.
She agreed.
“Or Heinecken,” I added
“Or a combo of the two,” she said.

That was as far as we got. We had reached the third floor. I was on my way to the fourteenth.