Gemotions

The elevator's descent had stopped abruptly, but the slow, agonizing downward spiral within felt relentless. I sat on the floor, cross-legged, the hard surface a poor substitute for the comfort I craved. Everything had become difficult, a burden to bear.

"So, should we try to pry the doors open?" asked Sarah, her voice a little too loud. The prospect was exhausting. "I don't know," I mumbled.

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, a persistent reminder of the world outside, the world I was increasingly unable to face. The walls of the elevator seemed to shrink, closing in on me. I rested my chin on my knees, letting the weight of my head add to the overall heaviness.

Her attempts at conversation faded as the minutes ticked by. I welcomed the silence, but the echoes of my own thoughts were deafening.