Gemotions

The fluorescent lights hummed. He leaned against the back wall of the elevator, arms crossed, staring at the numbers flickering above the door. Three hours. It was a Tuesday. He vaguely remembered scheduling a lunch with his family, though the details escaped him. His stomach gave a slight gurgle, but it didn't register as anything that needed addressing.

“Well, this is just great,” the woman beside him announced, her voice tight. He glanced at her, then returned his gaze to the digital display. The numbers hadn’t changed in a while.

He adjusted his tie, a purely mechanical gesture. He had a spreadsheet to finish, a report to submit. He wondered if this would affect the deadline. It probably would. Oh well. He had seen worse. The metal box felt too warm.