Gemotions

The air was stagnant, thick with a strange mixture of body odor and existential dread. Mark ran a hand through his hair, the gesture doing little to alleviate his discomfort. He'd already tried every mental exercise he knew.

He stared at his coworker, Sarah, who looked as if she was trying not to scream. He was tempted to start a conversation, but the idea seemed exhausting. Instead, he just sighed and ran his hands through his hair again, the repetitive motion offering a small sense of distraction.

He felt a deep sense of irritation at the world, the building, this damn elevator. And this experience.