I walk into the elevator. Alone, I go on my phone after clicking floor 10. “Oh sorry.” I hear an older woman say getting into the elevator. I look up to see, her. We lock eyes. We know exactly who each other is. I look back down, at my shoes. I can feel her awkwardness. _Could it be? Are we both tripping?_ “Isabelle?” I look up. “Yes.” I reply. She takes a deep breath in. “I’m sorry.” “Don’t apologize.” I say, rudely. “Why are you being so rude to me?” She asks. “You hardly know me, you don’t deserve an explanation. You lost all right to know me the day you left.” I respond. I roll my eyes. She bites on her lip. “I didn’t know at the time, but I want to now.” “You don’t anything about me. The once every three months phone calls. Praying that maybe you’ll show up at one of my band concerts and be impressed. And maybe decide to stay, because your solo was amazing. Maybe one day coming back to see your mother in your kitchen painting. Spending all of French class trying to become fluent in French so maybe she’ll talk to you.” I feel my face become wet. “You lost all right to know me.” I finish. She becomes silent before she walks off.