Gemotions

The tiny space felt like a prison cell to Robert. The stale air hung heavy, and the flickering lights seemed to mock his predicament. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Susan’s eyes, preferring instead to stare at the worn pattern of the elevator floor.

"Any luck?" Robert asked, his voice rough, after Susan had tried to call for help for the tenth time. Her negative shake of the head and the sigh that followed it just made Robert cringe.

His stomach ached, a deep, persistent ache that wouldn't go away. He hadn't eaten lunch, and now the hunger, combined with the confinement, made him feel weak and jittery. This was absolutely the worst.

He felt a profound sense of weariness, a bone-deep exhaustion that had nothing to do with physical exertion. He needed to get out, to breathe fresh air, to escape the crushing weight of his current reality.