Gemotions

The stale air in the elevator grew thick, each breath a struggle. John felt the familiar weight settle on his chest, a dull ache that seemed to worsen with every passing minute. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture automatic, a useless attempt to dispel the feeling of being utterly overwhelmed.

“So, uh, any ideas how we get out of here?” Sarah, his coworker, asked with forced cheerfulness. He just shrugged, the simple movement demanding far more effort than it should have. Her words felt like an intrusion, a harsh light in the dimness.

His stomach clenched. He hadn't eaten all day, hadn't had the will to. Food seemed pointless. Even thinking seemed pointless. He stared at his shoes, at the scuff marks, the dust, the utter insignificance of it all.

He wished he could just disappear. Fade away. He pulled his phone out, but the signal was gone. Another small kindness denied. He put it away again. What was the point?