NOT ON MINE

‘Excuse me,’ I said from behind two people sat on a step in the back stairwell the next time I used it to go out.
‘Sorry,’ the woman said.
They moved aside and I went between them before squeezing past a man looking through a camera mounted on a tripod on the landing below.
Outside the passage door on the sixth floor were Godmother and Old Woman talking.
‘Alright?’ said Godmother.
‘There’s a film crew up there on the stairs,’ I said as I walked between them.
‘What?’ they said not quite together.
‘A film crew...up there on the stairs...I just passed them...’
‘Oh,’ said Godmother, ‘what floor?’
I thought for a second looking up through the glass at where I’d just come from, raised my right arm, and rested the tips of my fingers lightly on my chin and said, ‘the eighth...yeh, must be, the eighth.’
‘That’s okay,’ she said, ‘as long as they’re not on mine.’