The elevator doors hissed shut behind him, but the image of that long, pale finger remained burned into David's retinas.
"Focus, David. Just focus," he hissed to himself, his worn-out boots thudding softly against the thick, plush carpet of the 6th floor.
His mind, trained to seek order and logic, frantically tried to process what just happened. To him, the world was a series of defined parameters. "Floor 4.5 doesn't exist. It was a visual artifact. A glitch in my own neural processing due to severe sleep deprivation," he rationalized. He tried to think about his complex Data Structures assignment to calm his racing heart, focusing on the stability of a balanced tree rather than the terrifying anomaly in the elevator.
He reached Room 602. The Presidential Suite.
The hallway smelled of expensive sandalwood and success—a sharp contrast to the smell of cheap grease that clung to his yellow delivery jacket. David reached into his backpack, feeling the sharp corners of the iPhone 17 box. It was the only thing that felt real right now.
Ding-dong.
He pressed the doorbell. No answer. Eager to go home and sleep off his hallucinations, he pressed it again, harder this time.
Heavy, annoyed footsteps echoed from inside. A deep curse followed. The heavy wooden door swung open with a violent jerk.
Standing there was a man who looked like he had been sculpted from granite. He was bare-chested, dripping with sweat, and wearing a diamond-encrusted Patek Philippe watch that likely cost more than David's entire university tuition. His handsome face was twisted with extreme irritation for having his "good time" interrupted.
"Are you deaf? I said leave the food at the door and get lost!" The man, Kelvin, roared. He looked down at David like he was a bag of trash.
David's pride, battered but not broken, flared up. "The order required a signature for the premium delivery, sir. Watch your tone."
Kelvin laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. "Tone? You're a bug, kid. A delivery bug. Do you even know who I am?"
Just as David was about to retort, a soft, sweet voice drifted from the dim lighting of the suite. A voice that instantly froze the blood in David's veins.
"Darling... who is it? Is the food here yet?"
A woman stepped into view behind Kelvin. She was wearing a pure white hotel bathrobe, her hair slightly damp. She wrapped her arms around Kelvin's waist and rested her cheek intimately on his broad back.
The iPhone box in David's backpack suddenly felt like a ton of lead.
It was Nicole.
The Nicole who told him she was staying in her dorm to study tonight. The Nicole he had skipped meals for. The Nicole he had sacrificed his health and his sanity for.
David felt a sensation far worse than the "glitch" in the elevator. It was the sound of a system-wide crash. His logic, his love, and his reality had all suffered a fatal exception error.
Nicole's eyes met David's. For a heartbeat, her face went as pale as a ghost. But the fear in her eyes didn't last. It was replaced by something much worse: cold, snobbish disgust.
"David?" she whispered, her voice devoid of any warmth. "What are you doing here?"