Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the elevator hummed, a shrill counterpoint to the drumming of Amelia's fingers against her thigh. Michael, her coworker, was humming too – some inane tune she didn’t recognize. He seemed utterly unfazed by their predicament. It was, after all, *her* project that had the higher stakes, *her* presentation they were late for. He was just along for the ride.

He finally stopped humming and made a casual remark about the air getting a little stale. Amelia simply stared at the ceiling, trying to breathe shallowly and evenly. Each tick of the digital display, registering the static zero, felt like a personal insult.

“You think they’ll get us out soon?” Michael asked, his voice overly cheerful. Amelia abruptly turned and faced the metal door, arms crossed tightly over her chest. "I don't care," she said, her voice clipped. It wasn't about the elevator.