Gemotions

The steel doors slammed shut with a clang that echoed in the confined space. Amelia’s breath hitched. She pressed the button for the lobby again, then again, just to be sure. Nothing. Her fingers fumbled in her purse, searching for her phone. Dead. Of course.

A bead of sweat trickled down her temple. She tried to smile at Mark, her coworker, but the expression felt stiff, unnatural. He was already leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking remarkably unperturbed.

"Great," she muttered, the sound tight in her throat. She smoothed down her skirt, then caught herself doing it again. And again. She needed to sit down, but she was afraid if she did, she'd never be able to stand back up.