Gemotions

The air grew heavy, the silence broken only by the rapid thud of her own heart. Clara felt a strange pressure building behind her eyes. Her hands trembled as she reached for her phone, the cold metal a small comfort in the growing darkness. The screen remained stubbornly blank.

"At least we're together," Mark said, his voice sounding hollow.

She didn't reply. His words felt insincere. She stared at the ceiling, at the way the light seemed to flicker, and realized the room was closing in. Her breath hitched in her throat. Every creak of the elevator felt like a threat.

Clara felt a rising tide of panic. She began to dig her nails into her palms, drawing blood. The world seemed to be tilting, becoming impossibly unreal. She needed to scream, to lash out, to make some kind of noise.