An office building in Michigan, March 2024.

He takes off his leather jacket, nodding at me. It’s warming up out there, he tells me. What floor? I answer three. As long as it’s not raining, I’m happy, I add. It can snow in April, he says and starts to sing: sometimes it snows in April, sometimes it snows in April. Have you ever heard it? No, I say. The elevator opens. Have a good day, I tell him. His eyes, his body lean into the silver buttons. I return to my desk, search for it, and listen to the quiet piano and mourning aahs as I type.

 

Stereo Story#798

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Pam Avoledo is a Michigan-based writer. She received her Bachelor of Arts degree in journalism from Oakland University in 2006. She writes flash fiction with an emphasis on pop culture. Pam’s work can be found at pamavoledo.com.