Painted on Procreate.

“As I’m getting ready for the long-awaited event tonight, I’m thinking of how trusting I am. That whenever I step into an elevator, that whenever I’m alone inside, and if it’s going up, I tend to feel like it’s not going to stop at my floor, that it’ll continue moving up, and up, up and crash out of the glass ceiling of the building. And once it’s out, it’ll start to gain its own consciousness and realise that it’s too late to turn around because it snaps. So it’ll accelerate to the ground and smash to pieces with me inside it. And then — oh I’m done. I’m looking pretty tonight. I should get going. My dead friend’s waiting.”