Secrets of the Seventh Floor

I landed my dream job in Owerri. The office was quiet, air-conditioned, and far calmer than the chaos outside. Everything felt perfect—until I learned the one strange rule no one explained. They told me, “If you call the elevator, press the button once.” I laughed it off. But one rainy morning I pressed it twice—and maintenance sprang into action. The next day I noticed an old plaque: the lift had reported a “button malfunction” seventeen times. Each time, the elevator stopped on the seventh floor—yet this building only has six. That night I waited alone and pressed it twice again. The doors opened onto my own floor, but in complete silence. Then I saw him: my exact double sitting at my desk. He smiled and whispered, “You pressed the button twice. The elevator is leaving soon. There’s always room for one more name.”

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