Gemotions

The minutes stretched into an eternity. Thomas leaned against the wall, his face pale. His gaze darted around the confined space, taking in every detail - the scratched panels, the outdated information placard, the lingering smell of stale coffee. He felt a profound sense of isolation, a disconnect from the world outside.

"Well, this is just great," said Sarah, his coworker, her voice tight. He said nothing, though he agreed.

He pulled at his collar, as if the fabric was strangling him. He imagined the building, the floors above, the people going about their lives, oblivious to his predicament. A cold sweat erupted on his back. He began to rub his arms compulsively, as if to ward off an invisible chill. The shadows deepened in the corners, morphing into distorted shapes.

He muttered, "I have to get out of here. I have to..."