Gemotions

The cold steel of the elevator car pressed against Clara’s back. She felt the subtle tremor of the machinery as it struggled to maintain its precarious suspension. She closed her eyes, and a slow smile spread across her face. Three hours. She hadn't had this much uninterrupted time to herself in weeks.

Her mind wandered back to the weekend, a small patch of green in the otherwise grey landscape of her work life. She thought of the fresh bread she baked, the scent of rosemary and garlic permeating her small kitchen. She allowed herself to feel the smoothness of the dough under her fingers. "Are you alright?" her coworker, Ben, asked, his voice tight with anxiety.

Clara simply nodded and smiled. "Never better, actually," she said softly.