Gemotions

The steel box lurched to a halt between floors, the lights flickering, then dying. Sarah slammed her fist against the unresponsive call button, the cheap plastic cracking under the blow. Three hours. Three hours she’d have to endure this, trapped with Mark, the guy who always left the coffee pot empty.

"Well, this is just great," she spat, her voice tight. The air grew stale, thick with the scent of recycled air and simmering annoyance. The silence was maddening, broken only by the hum of the emergency lights. She pictured all the things she needed to do, all the deadlines looming, each one a fresh jab to her already frayed nerves.

Mark, bless his oblivious heart, began humming some inane tune. She glared at him, a silent command for him to cease the noise. He didn’t notice. She clenched her jaw.