Gemotions

The air grew heavy. The faint smell of coffee and stale air became overpowering to Lisa, a sensation that had her heart pounding in her chest. She rubbed at her temples, trying to ward off the building pressure. She hated elevators, always had. This one seemed to be shrinking around her.

She watched, with growing unease, as John, usually the picture of stoicism, started pacing the small space. He kept muttering under his breath. He ran his hands through his hair, again and again.

“What’s happening?” she finally asked, her voice barely a whisper. He stopped pacing and looked at her, his eyes wide, his expression a mixture of dread and something else she couldn’t quite decipher. She felt a sudden wave of nausea wash over her. The button for the lobby. The light on it. It mocked her.