person number one

Dr. Paul Gonzales sat in his car outside of the hospital. He lit his pipe and commenced to smoke it. He finished his pipe, rolling down the window to dump the ashes out he thought how funny it was that an entire generation of kids were growing up, not knowing where that term came from. For them rolling down a window involved pushing a button.

Paul climbed out of his car, it was a '69 GTO and he loved it. He locked the door and shut it. He bent over in the window glass checked his tie and suit, after making sure he looked good he stepped up the curb, but four quarters in the meter, and walked into the rotating door.

Smiling at the receptionist as he walked in he rounded the corner to the elevator wall he pushed the up button lightly once. He was a patient man and people that mashed buttons to make things come faster was one of his pet peeves. He heard the familiar elevator “bing” and the clunk of the doors opening. Paul stepped in the elevator, he pressed the button for floor fifteen. The door rolled shut and he was alone, with an infinite numbers of him in the reflecting glass just all the Pauli and the muzak alone for the forty-five second ride. Feeling the elevator slow down he stepped up to the doors, the elevator came to a smooth stop and the doors rolled opened. Stepping out of the elevator he held the door for a mother pushing her child in a stroller.

Good deed number one for today, Paul told himself as he turned down the hall to his office.