Gemotions

The flickering fluorescent lights above buzzed, a sound that seemed to bore deeper into Clara's skull with each passing minute. Across the small, metal box, David's face was pale. She could see the fine tremor in his hands as he tried, futilely, to pry the doors open. Her stomach clenched. "Don't worry," she said, forcing a smile that felt brittle. "They'll get us out soon."

He didn't meet her eyes. Instead, he stared at his shoes, shuffling his feet like a nervous schoolboy. Clara felt a pang. He'd confided in her just yesterday about his sick mother. "Hey," she said gently, "are you alright? You look a bit green around the gills."

David took a shaky breath. "Just… worried, I guess." He finally looked up at her, his eyes clouded with what she recognized as fear. "My mom… I was supposed to call her at lunch. See how she's doing." She knew she should try to distract him, to lighten the mood, but the genuine worry on his face made her unable to do it. Instead, she asked, "Do you want me to call her when we get out?"

The corners of his lips quirked upward just a little. "Would you…?"