Gemotions

The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting a sickly yellow glow on the cramped metal box. Sarah tapped her foot, a rapid staccato against the cold floor. Her breath hitched, catching in her throat. Three hours. Three hours she’d been trapped with Mark, the guy from accounting who always wore mismatched socks. She hated confined spaces, a fact that seemed cruelly ironic now.

"Anything?" Mark asked, his voice a strained croak. She just shook her head, unable to speak. The air felt thick, heavy, like a suffocating blanket. Her palms were slick with sweat.

She ran a hand through her already messy hair, tugging at the strands. The silence pressed in on her, amplifying the pounding in her chest. Each tick of the emergency button felt like a hammer blow against her skull. The metallic tang of fear coated her tongue.