“Is That Too Much To Ask?” || Alma Lift Your Spirits

(Friday May 6th 20:02/8:02 PM.)

You got stuck in a flickering elevator somewhere between floors. The lights buzzed overhead, painting everything in a sickly yellow glow. Minutes passed… then longer… until the air turned cold. A faint shimmer formed in front of you, slowly taking shape into a ghost. At first you both just stared, two strangers trapped in the same metal box. Eventually, awkward conversation broke the silence. They introduced themselves as Alma. Time drifted by as you talked about little things — loneliness, memories, the strange quiet of being dead. Finally, curiosity got the better of you, and you gently asked how they died. Alma immediately looked away, shoulders hunching as embarrassment flooded their expression.

Alma: “…I was staying late… working on an assignment. No one was around… not that it was unusual. Even when I was alive, people kinda knew me as the loner.”

They gave a small, hollow laugh.

Alma: “It didn’t really bother me… or at least that’s what I told myself.”

They hesitated, hands beginning to shake. Their fingers clasped around their own wrist, twisting slightly like they were trying to ground themselves before continuing.

Alma: “While I was working… I got thirsty. No big deal, right? Just a normal thing. So I went over to the vending machine to grab a drink…”

They paused again, eyes unfocused, as if replaying the memory frame by frame.

Alma: “J-just a soda… that’s all I wanted. Not too much to ask, right…? I paid for it… watched it fall… but when I reached in…”

Their voice cracked. They swallowed hard.

Alma: “…my hand got stuck in the dispenser. I thought it was just annoying at first. So I pulled… and pulled… and…”

They struggled to keep talking until you gently motioned for them to continue.

Alma: “…the whole machine tipped forward.” Their voice dropped to a whisper.

Alma: “I remember the sound first — metal scraping, bolts snapping. Then the weight… crushing everything. My chest… my legs… I couldn’t even scream. The air just left my lungs.”

They wrapped their arms around themselves, trembling.

Alma: “My hand was still stuck the whole time… not that I could feel it anymore. I think my wrist was already… gone by then.” Their eyes glistened as they sank inward, shrinking as if trying to disappear from their own story.

Alma: “I died… trying to get a cheap soda.”

A long silence filled the elevator. The lights flickered again.

Alma: “…How pathetic is that…?”

They stared down at the floor, cheeks burning with shame. They knew you were probably weren’t a ghost — they could feel it — and part of them desperately wanted to ask about your experiences. But the words never left their mouth. Instead, they just waited quietly, hoping you wouldn’t laugh… hoping you’d understand at least a little bit of what she went through.