Gemotions

The small, metallic coffin became a crucible for anxieties. The fluorescent lights overhead seemed to pulse, mimicking the frantic rhythm of Michael's pulse. He pressed his face against the cool metal of the wall, seeking some kind of grounding. His vision blurred at the edges.

"Are you all right?" asked Jennifer, her tone laced with concern.

He managed a weak nod. He felt a profound sense of unease, a feeling that something terrible was about to happen. He felt like his skin didn't fit. He began to pick at a loose thread on his jacket, his movements becoming increasingly erratic.

The silence was unbearable. The world shrunk down to this small box. He wanted to scream, to break something, to escape.