It's the longest elevator ride he's ever been on. They're not in each other's arms, or kissing, or holding hands, or talking or not talking. They're silent, they're inches apart, they're miles apart.
A word has not passed between them since they closed the door on room 503. The drive was quiet, save for the raindrops drumming insistently on the hood and roof and windows. The walk into the building was quiet too, only the soft click click of their respective heels touching the tiled floor as they stride in matched step to the elevator bank.
His thoughts are deafening, a dull roar in his head like a restless Yankees crowd in the summer. Did he push too hard? Did he go too far? Could he get her back? Could he just go back- home, to Megan, to the way things had been before her? Did he want to? No. Will he have to? Yes. That much has been made softly and tenderly, yet resolutely and unmistakably clear.
The ding of the floor indicator sounds muted somehow, even though it should be loud in the silence. She squares her shoulders and steps off. His hand reaches for her as she passes, but she doesn't notice. His ears strain for words, that delivery of a new agenda. She doesn't speak as she walks away. He tries to catch her eye in the facing mirror as she walks to her apartment (the angle is awkward but it can be done). She never even glances in that reflective direction. He stalls the door from closing, counting to 30 as slowly as possible as he waits for her to stick her head back around the corner, to flash that little smile, to give some small sign. She never looks back.
A/N: realizing there are about 20 ways to go with Don & Sylvia scenes from "Man w/ a Plan" I still really liked the ending in the elevator. Short, simple, and very well done. I tried to do it justice. Hope you like it. There's other stuff cooking.