In the three years I had lived in my apartment, I couldn't recall ever using the elevator. My apartment was on the second floor, so I found no reason to use it, as I rarely went further up than my apartment. It was just two flights of stairs, after all, and when I did go further up, I didn't mind the exercise.
Today, however, those stairs seemed as daunting as climbing Mount Doom. The mere thought of scaling them was exhausting enough, and I found myself pushing the button for the elevator instead.
It was my last year in college, so I was buried alive with projects, essays, assignments, and anything else the professors could throw at us. It was as if they had it out for us this semester. At the end of the week, I barely had time to catch my breath before diving into another marathon stud
