INDEPENDENCE

I waited outside long enough, I hoped, for the people of the voices I heard through the slightly ajar door, (it’s not closing properly, I closed it earlier on my way out, not wanting all and sundry getting in and wandering the corridors) to take the lift before I went in and waited at Ground for my turn to go up...
...but then Lehman came over from one of the brick flowerbeds out front where he’d been sitting. He carried a blue plastic bag in which I could see two four-packs of Stella and I held the door, followed him in where the three men, it turned out, were talking as the lift reached two then one then the bottom.
‘Alright?’
‘Lads,’ I said.
‘Hello,’ said Lehman in the semi-resigned way he speaks.
‘What floor?’ said Big Issue.
Lehman said, then I said, pointing, to make sure.
‘I was in ‘ere the other day, black man too,’ said Big, ‘and I said, “what floor you want?” and he said, “it’s alright, I can press my own button.” I was only trying to help,’ he said, ‘but some people, you know?’
‘I know,’ said Lehman and I said, ‘Some people like to be independent.’