It happened on a Thursday.
The woman from 4B stepped into the elevator and the thermos slipped. It hit the floor with a loud metal clang and rolled toward Noor’s feet and they both reached down at the same time and their hands almost touched and didn’t.
“Sorry,” the woman said. First word. Three months of mornings and the first word was sorry.
“It’s fine,” Noor said. She picked up the thermos and handed it back. The dent was on the left side, near the bottom. Closer now, she could see it clearly. A scratch ran through it like a tiny river.
“Thanks.” The woman tucked it under her arm. “This thing is trying to escape.”
Noor laughed. It was a weird laugh, too loud for the elevator, and she immediately wanted to take it back. But the woman smiled. A real one. The kind where the eyes do something first.
The doors opened. Lobby.
“See you tomorrow,” the woman said. Like it was a thing they did. Like it was already theirs.
“Yeah,” Noor said. “See you tomorrow.”
She thought about the scratch in the dent for the rest of the day.