Gemotions

The steel box was a tomb. She chattered incessantly, her voice a relentless tide against the silence he craved. He leaned against the cool metal wall, the chill doing little to soothe the heat that seemed to bloom inside him.

He pictured his boss, a smiling viper, taking credit for his work. He could practically hear the condescending praise aimed at him. He could almost smell the self-satisfied scent of his cologne.

She offered him a granola bar, a gesture of forced camaraderie that made him want to scream. He shook his head curtly, a sharp, decisive movement meant to cut off any further interaction. He had no room for her saccharine sweet niceness.

His stomach twisted into a knot. He wanted to scream at the metal walls, to curse the faulty wiring, to just *escape*. Instead, he clenched his fists, trying to contain the frustration that threatened to boil over. He stared at his phone, wishing for a signal, a lifeline, a way to tell the world how they were *all* wasting his time.