This is anotherFriday Fictioneers
The lift doors opened.
“Ground,” Barked Grainger. The wizened operator pushed the Ground floor button without speaking, absurd toytown uniform straining over his paunch.
They hadn’t moved. Grainger barked, “What’s happening, man?”
The operator looked over with black, pupilless eyes and screamed. Grainger felt a tightness in his chest as he flailed for the emergency button.
When he awoke, the lift was empty. Another vision, he supposed; a manifestion of guilt according to his shrink. He felt different, though, less vigorous, somehow. He looked down to see that ridiculous toytown uniform encasing his skin.
The lift doors opened. He waited.