The 13th Floor

The elevator stopped on the thirteenth floor with a lurch.

The elevator didn’t want to stop. The lurch was the elevator tugging on the reins. Mr. Noving ignored its wishes and stepped out.

Prior to Mr. Noving, nobody had wanted to stop on the thirteenth floor. For years nobody had. All the other floors were sparkling. Modern. Equipped with stairs that circumvented the thirteenth floor. The twelfth and fourteenth floors ignored the thirteenth’s existence.

This was a city with serious superstition issues.

Mr. Noving brought with him great wealth and energy. He renovated the thirteenth. He introduced top businesses to it. He made it chic. The place to be. And then he extended his wealth and power to the floors above and below it. In time, the building became the business showplace of the city.

With the exception of the seventh floor, that is. Mr. Noving had a problem with the number seven. As shown in the photo above, the seventh floor descended into rack and ruin.

There is a moral here somewhere

for First Line Friday

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