I was standing with a group of people in the fancy spacious hall of a five stars hotel. It reminded me of Zamalek’s Marriott, which was a palace in the past.  The hall’s flour was entirely adorned with marvelously patterned marble. The ceiling was majestically high, and the dangling chandeliers were gracefully illuminating the place. The seats and couches were panached with purple and gold satin, the walls were richly cladded with oak, ornamented with golden frames and rare artworks, and the wide circular stairs were highlighted with forged copper balusters.

At one side of the hall, there were two elevators following its same design aspects; their outer doors were made of forged copper while their inner ones were each comprised of two wood-framed glass wings. The cladding of the lifts’ inner walls was of red oak and the buttons’ panel was of yellowish copper.

Some people moved towards the right lift and I was the only one to choose the left one. I entered, closed the outer and inners doors and pushed the upper button, but the elevator hasn’t moved.

I pressed again and heard a growling squeak indicating a possible technical problem. I tried the rest of the buttons but the machine kept mute, except that the last button glowed with a red light while the remaining ones were alternatingly turning-on-and-off a yellow light.

Anxiety besieged me; I tried to exit the elevator but couldn’t open the door. The space surrounding me suddenly shrunk: my chest was squeezed against the door and my back was glued to the wall behind it. I succumbed to claustrophobia, perilously suffocating. Impulsively, the door self-opened and I burst-out of it, eye-blinded, frantically gulping for air…



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