Gemotions

The fluorescent lights in the elevator flickered, casting a sickly yellow glow on the two figures trapped within. Mark ran a hand through his already dishevelled hair. He glanced at the other occupant, a woman from accounting he barely knew. He huffed a frustrated breath, the sound echoing in the confined space. “Well, this is just great,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. He tapped his foot against the polished floor, a staccato rhythm that seemed to mock the stillness. He had a very important meeting to get to.

His phone, of course, had no signal. He fumbled with the buttons, repeatedly jabbing at the call button, listening to the monotonous ring on the other end. He needed to be at the conference room in ten minutes to present his project. This could not have come at a worse time. He felt a throbbing in his temples; the close air was getting to him.

He looked at his watch for what felt like the hundredth time. Each passing second stretching into an eternity. He began pacing the small space, like a caged animal. The woman, whose name he suddenly couldn't recall, continued to study the elevator's buttons as if they held the key to her freedom.