For a first day on the job, it's dull. I've had four corporate jobs before this, and each time the first day was exciting somehow. I suppose I might not last long as an accountant here though, considering the the nausea swimming in my stomach. I had to leave early on my first day. What an impression on my new boss. I had taken the stairs up to the twelfth floor about five hours ago, but I decide to take the elevator down for the sake of my lunch. Coffee doesn't help me, I'm sure, but I feel like I'm going to fall asleep at the wheel driving back to my apartment. I can't feel a fever on myself, but I could never really tell without a thermometer. I'm somewhere between walking and stumbling down the sparsely decorated hallway when I get to the elevator. I hit the down button and the doors slide open a few moments after. The second I step inside, my head swims. I try to shake the sudden migraine away and hit the button for the ground floor. Something about the sensation of the elevator shooting down made everything ten times worse, and I swallow to keep my lunch in me. I've got my eyes closed with my fingers pressed on my temples when the elevator jerks to a stop. I look up, grabbing my bag and tightening my grip on my coffee, but the door never opens. I look at the floor counter. It says I'm still on the sixth floor. I swallow hard again and hit the open doors button. Nothing happens. I realize with a sinking feeling that I'm stuck between floors, now of all times. I'm pulling out my phone to dial 911 when the elevator starts to gently rock back and forth. That's too much for me. I turn to the side and vomit right as the service doors open. "Thank God," I think, turning around and wiping my mouth. I go to thank whoever is getting me out, and I see it. I see...everything.