Gemotions

The small space felt as though it was closing in around him. He felt the familiar heat rising in his neck, and a flush of crimson creeping into his cheeks. The air was stale, the silence deafening. The ticking of his watch seemed incredibly loud.

He kept glancing at the display, the numbers mocking his immobility, his inability to escape this metal coffin. He crossed his arms and stared at the floor, fighting the urge to pace. He thought about that awful project, and he was getting madder.

"What a waste of time," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. His colleague, Maria, offered a weak smile. He looked away, unable to return it.