Gemotions

The elevator doors closed, trapping him in a cramped metal box with the irritatingly cheerful Mr. Peterson from accounting. He loathed Mr. Peterson. His endless small talk grated on his nerves. He wanted to scream.

He typed a scathing text about Mr. Peterson to his friend. But in the dim light, the wrong contact was chosen. His boss. He hit send. He immediately felt the blood drain from his face.

The elevator shuddered to a halt. The lights flickered. He was trapped. He stared at the sent message, the words mocking him. This was not how he wanted to spend the rest of his career.