Gemotions

She bit down hard on her lip, a crimson stain blooming on the corner. The clock on her watch taunted her with its slow, deliberate ticks. Each one a tiny hammer blow against her patience. The air was thick, heavy with the scent of stale metal and the lingering aroma of someone's lunch.

“Well,” he stated, his voice flat and devoid of inflection, “This is just perfect.” He crossed his arms and stared at the elevator doors, as if willing them to open. Every muscle in his body felt tense, poised for action, as though ready to launch a physical assault.

The woman across from him, who's name he couldn’t remember, tried to speak, but he cut her off with a curt wave of his hand. "Don't bother," he said dismissively. "There's nothing to be said." The inside of his mouth felt dry.