Gemotions

The stale air pressed in on her, making it hard to breathe. Her palms were slick with sweat. He was standing close, far too close. She kept replaying their last encounter: the disastrous attempt to flirt that left her stammering and humiliated.

She tried to focus on the flickering light, pretending to study the elevator's control panel. The buttons blurred before her eyes. Every sound he made, every movement, was magnified by the silence. It was like living the worst day of her life.

“So,” he began, his voice hesitant, “at least there’s no place to run, right?”

She swallowed hard, wishing the floor would give way.