Gemotions

The metallic scent of the elevator, usually so sterile, seemed almost invigorating to Michael. He leaned back against the wall, a smile playing on his lips, unable to stop from feeling good. He had been accepted into the prestigious writing program. His dream had come true.

"This is just my luck," sighed Susan, her face etched with annoyance. "I have to be at my son's soccer game."

"It's okay," he replied, cheerfully. "We're safe, it's warm in here, and we have each other." He began to tell a story of his own, and as he spoke, he saw Susan soften. It wasn’t just a stuck elevator; it was a sanctuary.