Gemotions

"Great," Michael muttered, the word a heavy, drawn-out syllable. He let his briefcase fall to the floor with a thud. Any action felt like an excessive burden. The sudden stop of the elevator had been a real buzzkill.

His coworker, Jessica, was a whirlwind of frantic activity, trying to get cell service. He watched her with a detached amusement, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

He considered pressing the emergency button, but the effort of reaching out his hand seemed insurmountable. Instead, he simply leaned against the wall, eyes scanning the floor numbers. The thought of three hours in this confined box was exhausting.

He fished a pack of gum out of his pocket. Chewing might be the most physical activity he was prepared for at the moment. He unwrapped a stick with exaggerated slowness, savoring the moment.