She told me that I wasn't the first to own her, and that she'd been stolen twice before I bought her at the thrift store. I told her I wasn't surprised —she was too pretty to stay out on the street at night.

Just two blocks from my house, it started raining. I put my jacket on her and we dashed through the heavy rain. We got soaking wet anyway, but couldn't stop smiling. I'd never seen her like that before. She seemed so happy that I suggested we go upstairs and get dry.

"How?" she asked. "I don't fit in the elevator."

I wasn't going to let this little drawback spoil my night, so I replied, "Just leave it to me. I know how," pretending I had everything under control.

She had her doubts, but finally agreed, so we approached the elevator door. I reached for the handle and pulled the door open, holding it with my back and pulling the bike closer. I tilted her slightly to get her through the narrow space. As I guided her into the elevator, I set her upright, carefully balancing her body against mine in the tight space. I could feel her fear, but I softly pushed her further in, making sure she was safe before stepping inside and releasing the door.

"We're in." I said proudly. She didn't reply. Her discomfort was palpable.

Between the third and fourth floors, the elevator suddenly stopped. I pressed the button several times, but the elevator wouldn't move. I tried different buttons and finally pressed the alarm button, hoping a neighbor would hear it. After trying for a while, I gave up for fear it would overheat and start a fire. I sat down by her side on the floor. Inside the small space, we felt like the walls were closing in on us. I promised her that everything would be okay and put my hand on her for comfort. She leaned against me, seeking warmth and we cuddled on the floor, forgetting where we were, and soon fell asleep.

(To be continued)