Gemotions

He felt his stomach twist, a cold knot forming in his gut. The lights flickered, plunged into a brief, disorienting darkness, and then returned, casting the small space in a harsh, unforgiving glow. He tried to speak, but his voice caught, a choked sound lost in the confined space.

“Just…breathe,” he managed to croak out, forcing himself to take a measured inhale and exhale. Across from him, Sarah was a statue of perfect stillness. He knew that calm wouldn't last. Her fingers were already digging into her forearms, leaving angry red marks.

He attempted to reason. "They'll send someone up. It's probably just a short delay." But his own heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. The silence thrummed around them, broken only by the hum of the elevator and the ragged rhythm of his own breathing.

The first sob escaped her. Then another. He wanted to reach out, to reassure her, but his own muscles felt frozen, unable to move. The air felt thin, tainted, like the inside of a coffin.