Gemotions

The smell. That was what really got to John. A musty, metallic odor that clung to everything. He shifted, trying to find a comfortable position against the cold wall of the elevator. His coworker, Emily, was humming some saccharine tune. He wanted to tell her to stop, but the effort seemed too much.

He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it further. He’d had a big presentation scheduled for this afternoon, and now? He pictured his boss’s face and clenched his jaw. This was a complete disaster.

He took another deep breath, trying to slow his racing heart. Time seemed to stretch and warp within the confined space, each tick of the imaginary clock amplifying the tension. He needed out. Now.