Gemotions

It was the first time that Michael had ever felt this kind of panic. He ran his clammy hands through his hair, the gesture somehow not alleviating anything. He’d barely spoken to Brenda from marketing before this. Now, they were stuck, the lights flickering ominously. He swallowed hard, a dry, scratchy sensation in his throat.

"Okay," Brenda said, her voice wavering. "Let's...let's not freak out." But Michael knew, he was on the precipice. Each second ticked by, and the silence, punctuated only by the hum of the machine, was a torment. He felt a desperate urge to flee, to break free of these confining metal walls.

He pressed the call button again and again until his finger ached. He was aware his breathing was labored, shallow, rapid. Michael started muttering under his breath, repeating the mantra: “get out, get out, get out.” He couldn't stop the tremors that wracked his body.