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Elevator
He knew he was at an elevator, on a gurney, and his body was starting to float above the crisp, white sheet. The old man couldn't open his eyes, yet he was seeing with clarity profound. A chubby orderly stood at the old man's head. His arms crossed at his chest, his thoughts on his girlfriend. The elevator's button had been pushed. He had just seen his life. It was as though he sat in a dark balcony and it rushed past on the silent screen. How he had petulantly studied for the seminary; fought in the war; married, divorced childless; all the nights of pleasure, of sorrow; afternoons running in shorts, playing tag with Buddy, his only childhood friend, rescued by his father from the pound. Now waiting for the elevator. Now floating higher above the crisp, white sheet. First the elevator ceased to be real, then the gurney, then the orderly. And, finally, so did the pain.
Steve Cartwright has done art for several magazines, newspapers, websites, commercial and
governmental clients, and books. He also creates art pro bono for several animal rescue groups.
He was awarded the 2004 James Award for his cover art for Champagne Shivers. He recently illustrated
the Cimarron Review cover. Take a gander (or a goose) at his online gallery.
Email: Steve Cartwright
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