8
At 9:07 pm the elevators sighed to a halt and the building held its breath.
Someone shouted for help from the fourteenth floor. A teenager named Faris grabbed a flashlight and masking tape and began labeling each flight of stairs with floor numbers and arrows, then knocked on doors to pair the young with the elderly. Grocery bags became harnesses for babies; water bottles and snacks formed a relay table on the eighth. By the time the generators coughed awake close to midnight, strangers knew each other’s names, and the building’s WhatsApp group had more hearts than complaints. The next morning a whiteboard appeared in the lobby: “Stair Team—volunteers welcome.” The outage had flickered, but the light it sparked did not.
