Gemotions

He stared at the numbers above the door, willing them to change. Michael shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the polished floor cold against his shoes. The silence was deafening, punctuated only by the low hum of the machinery. His palms were slick.

He pulled at his collar, feeling a sudden heat. He needed air, desperately. He imagined the meeting he was late for, the consequences of missing it. He would be in so much trouble.

"We should try the emergency button," the woman beside him said, her voice steady. He ignored her, fixating on a tiny speck of dust dancing in a sunbeam.

A wave of dizziness washed over him. He felt a need to pace. He dug his nails into his palms, trying to ground himself. He pressed the button. Nothing happened. He slammed the button again. Still nothing.