Gemotions

A wave of heat surged through Emily's body, a physical manifestation of her mounting ire. The stagnant air in the elevator felt thick and oppressive, making her skin prickle with discomfort. She kicked at the wall, the dull thud a small, unsatisfying release.

She could barely look at David, her coworker. The man was whistling a jaunty tune, oblivious to the situation. It was maddening. Utterly, completely maddening. The sheer audacity of his carefree attitude was enough to make her veins feel like they were about to explode.

"Are you serious?" she snapped, her voice tight. She wanted to scream. She wanted to hurl something. She wanted to escape.

Her fingers fidgeted, picking at the loose threads of her dress. The close proximity, the inescapable confinement, it was all too much. She began to rapidly tap her foot against the floor, a staccato rhythm that echoed in the silent, stalled box. Each tap a testament to the boiling point she was rapidly approaching.

She closed her eyes, trying to breathe deeply, but the air felt thin, tainted by the stench of stale coffee and impending doom. She hated this. She *hated* this.