After the doors closed, I moved slightly to my right, pressing my back against the solid elevator wall.
If I had kept my eyes open, the whole of the city would have opened before me as I ascended to the top floor of Jacoby Towers. The car’s three outward facing glass walls offered riders a breath-taking vista of a deep canyon of glass and chrome, cut through by a meandering asphalt river. I was grateful the floor wasn’t transparent.
Panic rose in my throat, not because of the expanding distance below me, but for what was waiting above me.
Thin spiral notebook 
I can relate to at least some of the fear here. That elevator ride would freak me out. I want to know what’s at the top of the elevator that is so much worse.
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I’m not typically acrophobic, or afraid of elevators, but put the two together and I get a smidge twitchy.
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