Gemotions

The fluorescent lights in the elevator hummed, a high-pitched whine that grated on Eleanor's nerves. Three hours. She could practically feel the deadlines piling up on her desk, mocking her immobility. She crossed her arms, the crisp fabric of her blazer doing little to soothe the building tension in her shoulders.

"Well, this is just great," she muttered, the words tight and clipped. Her gaze darted to her coworker, Mark, who was fiddling with his phone. She wished he'd stop doing that. The silence, punctuated only by the incessant hum and Mark's fidgeting, was infuriating.

Eleanor took a deep breath, trying to regain some composure. She could be productive. They could discuss strategy, go over their presentation. But the thought of collaborative work, in this confined space, made her head throb. She sighed, a puff of annoyance that she couldn't quite contain.