“Donde está mi amor?”
“Where are you my love?”
Inside the elevator, she is talking on her cell phone to a lover or a boyfriend or an ex she is still in love with. Her stop is the 24th floor so I have plenty of time to find out her story. She tells him that she can only spend a few minutes because her husband is coming back from town. So she is having an affair. I try to hide my smile; I can’t let her know that I know her secret.
Her short, black hair allows me to see her freckles, the few lines above her forehead and the tiny mole above her left brow. She fidgets and plays with the gold wedding band on her finger. How many times does she see him? How many lies does she tell?
She quickly grabs her navy brief case and steps out to see Enrique, the forbidden lover, the secret lover, her amor.
I smile and wait for the elevator to close.