Gemotions

The steel doors slammed shut with a finality that made Sarah jump. Her hand flew to her chest, her fingers brushing against the fabric of her blouse. Mr. Henderson, her coworker, simply sighed. He pushed the button for the lobby again, then the button for the tenth floor. Nothing. Her mind blanked.

She couldn't believe it. Just this morning she’d practiced her presentation. Now, trapped in a metal box with the office grump. The fluorescent lights hummed, a low, irritating thrum that seemed to burrow into her skull. She noticed her palms were clammy.

"Well," Mr. Henderson said, his voice a low rumble, "this is just fantastic." Sarah nodded, unable to form a coherent response. Her eyes darted around the confined space, taking in every detail of the tarnished metal and the flickering call button. She took a breath, attempting to steady herself.

Minutes ticked by, each one an eternity. He began fidgeting, tapping his foot. She watched him, frozen. The weight of her workload, the looming deadline, the unspoken expectation that she would be *ready* suddenly felt overwhelming.