“We are going to beat you,” Lauren, my cousin, said in a ‘you can’t catch me tone’.
“Wait for us!” My family pleaded.

We hurtled ahead of the crowd behind us, bolting strait into the elevator. Once inside, the view of our family running toward us slowly got blocked as two large metal doors slid shut. Laughs and high-pitch giggles fade as the realization we were alone and not moving entered. The silence in this tight, Closter phobic space was broken.
“Look for the buttons.” It was are our family trying to guide us four- year- olds behind the large blocks of metal. These voices were soon muffled over hysterical sobs and sonorous screams.
“Rachael, press the open doors button!”
“W-what d-do I do again?” I stuttered over choppy breaths.
“Just wait there honey!”
I could barely answer, “O-Okay.”
In the reflection of the steel I saw blurred bright red tomato faces. I tasted the salty tears that streamed down my cheeks. Minutes were passing and looking back the room seemed to glow with a surreal, dream feeling. My head throbbed and pounded from the dehydration. We stood there staring blankly thinking we were going to be stuck here.
“Stand back,” a foreign voice cautioned.
We crept back. Slowly but surely our reflection got split in two by the widening view of firemen. We burst through the doors trembling with wide, puffy, red eyes. A gust of relief blew over us as our arms and eyes met the family faces we ran away from. At the same time the thought of our parents screaming at us for doing bad made us shake. To our surprise we were only greeted with warm hugs and comforts. We never ever ran away from our family again!