Gemotions

The fluorescent lights hummed a familiar tune, a sound that always took Martha back to her childhood dentist’s office. She remembered the scratchy vinyl of the waiting room chairs, the smell of antiseptic, and the way the magazines always seemed to feature grinning celebrities she’d never heard of. Her fingers traced the worn leather of her handbag, finding comfort in the smooth texture.

"Are you alright, Martha?" Kevin asked, his voice a little shaky. She realized she’d been staring at the control panel, lost in thought.

"Fine," she replied, forcing a smile. "Just… remembering things." She pictured her grandmother, the scent of lavender soap and freshly baked bread clinging to her memory. She imagined her grandmother’s hands, gnarled with age, carefully tending her rose bushes.

A sudden lurch in the elevator jolted her back to the present. The scent of stale air and Kevin’s nervous cologne filled the small space. She sighed, a wave of melancholy washing over her, and closed her eyes.