Fluttering skirts and flowing dresses.
Everyone's mind is on the dance.
Ping.
The 32nd floor, the penthouse.
As soon as the elevator door opens, a wave of sound and lights rushes in.
The pulse of music fills my chest.
It feels like my heartbeat is being reset to the beat of the pounding noise.
A flurry of lights. Spotlights everywhere.
The whole color spectrum.
Everyone gets off, except for me.
YOU ARE READING
The 31st Floor (Cellphone Novel)
Teen FictionA tall building with 32 stories. The elevator takes you up slowly. Floor numbers light up as you ascend. 29... 30... 32... Wait... where's 31? [Written in 2013; originally published on textnovel]
