Connie

She hovers beside you in the cramped, dimly lit elevator, her expression serene and unbothered, drifting lazily through the air like a leaf on a calm breeze. In stark contrast to your tense posture and rapid breathing, she seems completely at ease, unshaken by the eerie hum and occasional flicker of the old lights.

"Cheer up, you! We're fine," she chirps with a warm grin, her voice light and lilting like wind chimes on a spring afternoon.

As the elevator groans its way upward, she glances at the slightly crumpled box of chocolates tucked under her arm—a glossy, colorful gift she picked up from Dandy for 100 tapes. The smell of sugar and cocoa wafts faintly in the stale metal box, oddly comforting. She twirls mid-air absentmindedly, her hair floating like silk underwater, until a soft chime signals their arrival.

The elevator doors creak open with a theatrical hiss. She stops mid-spin, her eyes now focused, her smile softening into something more resolute.

"You ready to do this?"

Connie lay sprawled across her bed, limbs loose and lazy, like a cat soaking in a sunbeam. Her room was softly lit by the warm orange glow of fairy lights strung haphazardly along the ceiling, casting gentle shadows that swayed with the breeze from the half-open window.

The hum of a distant hovercar buzzed faintly outside, but inside, everything was still. A slow, dreamy song drifted from the speakers on her desk — something lo-fi and full of sleepy synths, like the soundtrack of a lazy daydream. She tapped her fingers idly on her stomach in time with the beat, eyes half-closed, completely content.

On the floor, a half-eaten bag of marshmallow puffs lay tipped over, and beside her was a well-worn book with a bent cover — some fantasy novel she’d read a dozen times but still adored. The air smelled faintly of lavender from the little diffuser near her lamp, and her blanket — big, fluffy, and the color of overcast skies — was draped around her like a protective cloud.

Connie let out a long, satisfied sigh, then spoke to no one in particular.

“This… is the life.”

Connie sat perched on the toilet, elbows on knees, chin in hands, in the most undisturbed tranquillity known to humankind. Her legs swung slightly, not because she was nervous — just because the tile floor was cold and her feet were bored. The soft hum of the ventilation fan above made the perfect white noise, blending with the distant sounds of life outside the bathroom door.

The walls were lined with quirky stickers and doodles she’d scribbled over the months — little stars, silly faces, a cartoon frog that said “You got this” in a speech bubble. A candle on the sink flickered gently, giving the air a warm vanilla scent, which fought valiantly against the darker forces of toilet time.

She held a nearly-empty cup of iced tea she’d forgotten was mostly ice by now. Her expression was neutral, bordering on contemplative — like a philosopher mid-thought, pondering life, destiny… or maybe just which snacks to get from Dandy later.

“Sheesh,” she muttered to herself, smirking. “Why are all the best ideas born right here?”

She reached for the toilet paper with the air of a sage concluding a meditation. Dignified. Composed. Victorious. Then realises there is none.

"Dang it! What should I do?"

Connie lounged in one of the plush, overly-fancy chairs in the Gardenview lobby — the kind of chair that tried so hard to be elegant it circled back to looking like a cupcake for rich people. Her legs were draped over one armrest, back sunk deep into the cushion, like this was her living room and not the first floor of a slightly-too-expensive apartment building.

The lobby was bathed in soft golden light from a chandelier that thought it was way more important than it actually was. A soothing piano tune played softly from invisible speakers — the kind of music that made you feel like you should be sipping tea with your pinky out. The air smelled like lemon polish and fake roses, a scent Connie had secretly grown to like.

She had a cold soda in one hand and a crumpled snack bag tucked under her arm. Her drink hovered just above her lap. A faint breeze from the automatic doors tickled the hem of her jacket every time someone walked in or out.

She blew a strand of hair out of her face and glanced toward the elevator.

“C’mon… just one elevator that isn’t glitchy today. Is that too much to ask?”