by Matt Siegel
In any American elevator built or installed since the early nineties, the close-door button is nonfunctional unless activated with a key — by fireman. Unfortunately, it’s quite difficult to tell the age of an elevator. And then there’s the factor of timing — because button response varies, leaving you only to second-guess whether it’s active or not, which can lead to feeling foolish. One’s best bet, then, is to just take the stairs and be done with it all. The same, exactly, is true for my place in the dating pool (in metaphor... and substituting early nineties with late eighties). But sadly, I can’t figure out what the fucking stairs symbolize — or pass that fucking fire test.
Matt Siegel earned his MFA in fiction from Georgia College & State University and currently teaches at Southern Connecticut State University. His works of fiction, nonfiction, and poetry have appeared in Pebble Lake Review, Redivider (twice), So to Speak, Press 53, Pearl, Buffalo Carp, and elsewhere.