Gemotions

He bounced his leg, a nervous energy coursing through him. Inside, the metal walls of the elevator felt like they were closing in. He kept trying to catch the eye of the woman standing next to him, but she wouldn’t make eye contact. He wanted to ask her about her weekend, her life. Anything.

The air grew stuffy, thick with the scent of stale coffee and forced politeness. He thought about the weekend he'd just spent alone, the takeout containers still stacked in his kitchen sink. He wished he had someone to share stories with.

"So," he began, his voice sounding hollow even to his own ears, "How's your day going?" He winced at the banality of the question, but the silence had become unbearable.