Gemotions

The thought of what she’d said earlier that day, the off-color joke she’d made in front of everyone during the coffee break, replayed in her mind. Now, with Mark, her boss, in this metal coffin, every breath felt like an indictment of her poor judgement.

She stared at the control panel, pretending to examine the buttons. The fluorescent lights flickered, casting her face in an unflattering glow. She felt exposed, vulnerable. Every small sound, every cough, seemed to amplify her discomfort.

“So,” Mark said, his tone carefully neutral. “I guess we wait.” She offered a weak smile, her cheeks burning. The silence stretched, each second an agonizing reminder of her indiscretion.