Gemotions

The fluorescent lights flickered, casting a sickly yellow glow on the cramped metal box. Sarah tugged at her collar, a nervous habit she’d had since childhood. Across from her, Mark whistled a jaunty tune, oblivious. She cleared her throat, “Do you… do you think they know we’re in here yet?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

He stopped whistling, finally noticing her. “Relax, they’ll figure it out. Someone always needs the elevator. Probably a maintenance guy will be here in a jiff.” He smiled, but Sarah didn't return it.

The silence returned, pressing down on her. The air felt thick, heavy. She fidgeted, wishing she’d remembered her phone charger. She couldn’t stand being disconnected, adrift. “Maybe… maybe we should call for help again,” she mumbled, already reaching for the unresponsive call button, her fingers trembling.