Gemotions

A bead of sweat trickled down Sarah’s forehead as she stared at the closed doors. She let out a sigh. Her fingers drummed a frantic tattoo against the side of her briefcase. It had been nearly an hour already. She hated being late, especially when someone else was responsible.

"Anything?" she asked the man next to her, her voice tight. He shook his head. She chewed on her lip, a habit she usually kept in check. Her stomach churned. She was supposed to be picking up her daughter from school. Now, she would have to call and beg her neighbour to step in.

She walked towards the corner and slammed her palm down against the emergency call button. The automated voice, calm and unhelpful, repeated the same message as before. She spun on her heel, her frustration mounting with each tick of the silent second hand. A headache was forming. She could barely stand to be in this stifling box any longer.

She finally sat on the floor, her back against the wall, but she was unable to relax.