The Elevator

“The last part of the brain that we’re going to talk about today is the parietal lobe.”
Professor White, a psychology professor at the University of Maine was coming to the end of his lecture. He was a good professor, but still, Laura felt like a teacher’s pet having to sit in the front row while her broken ankle healed. She was lucky that her friend, Sam agreed to sit with her. Sam usually slept through psych, but she was able to stay awake through the weeks it had taken Laura’s ankle to heal.
“You’re going to find this lobe of the brain above the occipital lobe and behind the frontal lobe,” Professor White continued. “This part of the brain is responsible for spatial awareness. So it’s going to tell you when something or someone is in your personal bubble. This is the reason why when we get on an elevator, we don’t stand face to face with each other in the middle of the elevator. Instead we move to the side and keep a comfortable distance between ourselves.”
Laura thought of taking the elevator to class with her broken leg. Even though most of the time she was alone, she still moved to the side of the elevator in case someone else happened to enter with her.
“That seems like a good place to stop for today. Remember we have an exam within the coming week, so make sure you study hard. I want to see you all do well. I’ll see you on Thursday.”
Laura began packing her notes, along with the rest of the class. After throwing her backpack onto her back, she grabbed her crutches and struggled to her feet.
“Do you need help?” Sam asked.
“No I got it,” Laura insisted, finally standing upright, leaning on her crutches.
The two women stood, waiting for the rest of the students to leave the classroom. Laura had learned the hard way that these kids would push a girl in crutches out of their way if she wasn’t moving fast enough.
More than one person asked how she broke her leg, to which she replied, “It’s my ankle. Skiing accident.”
When the majority of people had exited, they began moving toward the door.
“How much longer do you have to have that thing on?” Sam asked.
“Two more weeks,” Laura replied. “I can’t wait. I have bruises under my arms.”
“Oh wow, that’s annoying.”
“Yeah.”
They exited the classroom into the hallway where Laura stopped at the elevator and pressed the down button.
Sam said, “I’d take the elevator with you, but my next class is on this floor.”
“That’s okay, it’s not so bad, I just hate that this elevator goes to a completely deserted part of the first floor. It’s kind of creepy, but I’ll live. I’ll see you later for lunch.”
“Sure thing.”
Sam walked away as the doors to the elevator opened. Laura stepped on and pressed the button for the ground floor. As the doors began to close, she was startled by the sudden appearance of a hand in the door, forcing it open. A perfectly capable man – who she judged to be in his thirties – stepped on to the elevator wearing a hoodie and jeans.
She struggled to one side of the elevator so he could fit comfortably with her. However, he let the doors shut behind him without moving further into the elevator, without turning to face the door, and without pressing any buttons.
Uncomfortable, she asked, “Do you need me to press your floor for you?”
He said nothing.
She laughed. “I know what you’re doing. I was in Professor White’s class, too. Good one.”
Even in saying this, she was troubled by the fact that this man did not look like a student. He had no back pack, no textbooks or binders filled with notes.
All too late, she noticed the knife in his hand.
Laura’s body was found in the elevator later that day, stabbed twenty times. Her murderer is still unknown.