Scrawlers

I thrust my arm between the doors, causing the elevator to tremble as the doors reopened. The tardy passenger hustled aboard, flashing me a warm smile for my small act of courtesy. Her blond hair was wound tightly against her head, complementing the sleek lines of her gray wool suit and gleaming knee-high leather boots. She wore only a red knit scarf to protect her from the bitter January cold. Maybe this was her first Minnesota winter?

Maybe she'd like a coffee to begin her day?

Neither question escaped my lips before she strode purposefully through the elevator door.