Conference Room B Doesn't Exist

Everyone remembers the first time their phone betrays them. Mine did it in a packed elevator,

six coworkers, dead silence, thirty floors to go. My phone rang.

Loud. Sharp. Not my ringtone. The screen didn’t show a number.

Just one word: MEETING. I laughed, awkwardly, and tried to silence it.

It didn’t stop. Instead, the vibration synced perfectly with the elevator’s movement,

like it knew where I was. I answered without thinking. “Why are you late?”

my own voice asked. I froze. The doors didn’t open. The elevator slowed.

“I’m not late,” I whispered. “I’m here.” “No,” the voice said calmly.