Someone stabbed you in the neck, girl " My eyes widen and I slowly turn towards the elderly gentleman standing next to me. My hand instinctively goes up to my neck and touches the dime-sized mark just below my ear. I smile but can't tell if I should be scared or amused. Although his opening conversation is a bit morbid, he can't be that dangerous. His stooped posture and shaky attitude say he is not a day younger than 80 years old. He takes a few slow steps toward one of the two red velvet chairs that are positioned against the wall near the elevator. He groans as he sinks into the chair and then looks at me again. "Are you going to the 18th floor?"
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