Escalator Elegance
She stood on the escalator like a pro, perfectly poised in her crisp flight attendant uniform. Straight blonde hair gleaming under the mall lights, navy blazer sharp, scarf tied just so, and shoes polished to a mirror shine. People on the escalator ahead of her and behind her couldn’t help but glance. Some glanced quickly, thinking, Is she…? Others stared, eyes wide, unsure if they were witnessing an impromptu fashion show or some kind of performance art.
She wasn’t really doing anything at least, nothing obvious. Hands at her sides, slight tilt of the head, one foot slightly forward as if she were about to announce, “Welcome aboard.” The escalator carried her upward steadily, yet she radiated purpose, like she had somewhere extremely important to be, or perhaps she was secretly running the world.
People reacted in ways that ranged from subtle to hilarious. A man with a coffee cup froze mid-sip, eyebrows raised in silent awe. A teenage girl with headphones pressed her palm to her mouth, whispering to her friend like she’d just spotted a celebrity in disguise. An elderly couple exchanged polite nods, poker faces on, pretending to be casual, but their eyes betrayed the fact that they were mentally taking notes.
Even children seemed intrigued. One small boy tugged at his mother’s sleeve, pointing, and the mother gave a stiff smile that suggested, Yes, we see her too. A man in a hoodie looked at his phone, then back, as if double-checking if the woman really existed in this timeline.
It wasn’t that she was doing anything remarkable, really. It was her presence the kind of presence that makes escalators feel like runways, parks feel like movie sets, and malls feel like the perfect backdrop for an accidental photo shoot. Every subtle tilt of her head, every perfectly timed glance, seemed to draw attention effortlessly.
The time she stepped off the escalator, a small audience of silent admirers had formed, each returning to their day, secretly thrilled to have witnessed a brief, surreal moment of poise, style, and a hint of mystery.
She walked on, calm, collected, and completely unaware or perhaps perfectly aware of the tiny ripple of reactions she left behind.
