Dear Unsuspecting Victim,

You see, I felt a rumbling in my tummy that I couldn’t quite ignore and I swear I tried to hold it in, but the 13 seconds that it took to get to the fifth floor wasn’t enough before I unwillingly let out a gut-wrenching smell that you so kindly chose to pretend you didn’t smell. However, as I walked out onto my designated floor and took one final glance back, I saw the pain and anguish in your eyes knowing that you had to endure at least another six seconds of what my breakfast taco smelled like after it was digested. I knew right then that I needed to apologize, but all I could do was watch the doors slowly close to lift you to your floor.

I don’t normally have tummy troubles like that, so I don’t know what came over me and why I couldn’t control my own bodily functions. I appreciate that you did everything in your power to avert your eyes and pretend that your phone suddenly got the single most interesting text message in the history of text messages, but neither of us can pretend that you didn’t know it was me. I realize that it was wrong on so many levels (pun intended, I'm sorry... I had to), but please accept my apology for what it's worth.

I know they say “silent, but deadly,” but I truly did not expect to let out something that would fill those 16 square feet so quickly, much less anything at all. I know this will probably go down as one of the worst Monday mornings you could have had and I know there will be a small amount of therapy that you will have to participate in to get you through those painful seconds, but know that I apologize — know that if my will will have it, I will never willingly let out flatulence in such a closed space again; there will not be another who has to suffer in the way that you did today.

My sincerest apologies,
The one who accidently crop dusted you in the elevator