Gemotions

Sarah glared at the elevator panel. The numbers remained stubbornly fixed at "G". Three hours. Her stomach twisted, not from hunger, but from the sheer frustration of the situation. "Great," she muttered, audible only to herself.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm the jitteriness that was building inside her. Her colleague, David, offered a nervous smile. "Maybe they'll send pizza." She shot him a withering look. Pizza? The thought was absurd.

The air conditioning, if it was even working, wasn't doing much. Beads of sweat began to form on her forehead. She pulled at the collar of her blouse, the fabric suddenly feeling too tight, constricting her. The incessant drone of the emergency lights was making her head hurt.