Gemotions

The steel box was a tomb. I kept glancing at the emergency phone, the silent receiver a symbol of their helplessness. My palms were slick with sweat. I leaned against the cold metal wall, feeling the tremor in my legs. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed, a maddening symphony that seemed to burrow into my skull.

"This is ridiculous," said Mark, his voice strained. I couldn't meet his gaze.

My gut churned. I had to get out. I needed to move. I needed… something. I raked a hand through my hair, feeling the strands sticking to my clammy forehead. The shadows in the corners of the elevator seemed to lengthen, the metal beginning to glisten.

"You okay?" Mark asked. His voice sounded far away.

I couldn't answer. I just shook my head, my throat closing up. A wave of nausea crashed over me, followed by a dizzying sensation of being pulled under water. I closed my eyes, willing the sensation to pass.