Gary muttered about his bad luck as the elevator doors closed, trapping him with a woman who smelled like lavender and optimism. She beamed, clapping her hands. “Today is going to be amazing!” she declared. Gary crossed his arms. “Says the guy stuck in an elevator with a human disco ball.” The elevator lurched, then stopped. The woman pulled a tiny crystal from her bag. “I’m manifesting positivity,” she said, spinning it. Gary snorted. “You’re manifesting my headache.” She ignored him, chanting, “I am a magnificent toaster! I am a magnificent toaster!” Gary blinked. “What?” “Affirmations,” she said, as if explaining gravity. The lights flickered. Gary’s phone died. “This is ridiculous,” he said, but his voice wavered. The woman nodded sagely. “Negative thoughts are just low-energy vibes.” Gary opened his mouth to retort—then the elevator jolted back to life. He stared at her. “How?” She smiled. “Positive energy attracts positive outcomes.” Gary glanced at her crystal, then muttered, “I am… a very patient human being.” The woman gasped. “Did you just affirm?” Gary groaned, but his lips twitched. The elevator doors opened. He stepped out, then turned back. “Um… I am… a sandwich?” The woman burst into applause. Gary rolled his eyes, but as he walked away, he hummed a tune. Maybe being a sandwich wasn’t so bad.
