In the lift

The lift door opens.

There were about six of us waiting, and the Indian man in front of the door goes in first. He hesitates, and then walks into the lift.

I'm next, and I immediately find out why he hesitated in entering the lift: there was a puddle of curry in the middle of the lift floor.

I carefully step around it, making sure that my flip-flops does not get stained with the curry.

Next to enter is a family, and they do the same thing, carefully stepping around the curry puddle.

I shuffle to the back of the lift. And because of the puddle, I can't reach the buttons panel.

"Er..." Woman from the family attempts to ask me which floor I live at, but couldn't get the words out.

"Eleven"

"Eleven" She tells the Indian man who is standing closest to the buttons panel.

He presses the button "11" and waits.

The lift door doesn't close. So the woman tells the man to press the "close" button. And he does. Lift door closes.

Up the lift goes, and all of us just stare at the puddle of curry until we reach our floors.

Just a puddle of curry.

I wonder who will clean it up.