Gemotions

The crowded train car was a suffocating pressure cooker. Sarah gripped the overhead handrail, her knuckles bone-white. Each jostle, each cough, each echoing announcement felt like a physical blow. The metallic tang of fear coated her tongue. She wished she had taken a taxi.

A man across from her, his face etched with a similar grim set, kept compulsively smoothing his tie. His eyes darted around the carriage, taking in everything, analyzing the perceived threat in every movement. She could almost feel the electricity that ran through him.

He cleared his throat. "Long commute, huh?" he asked, his voice a low rumble, devoid of any real warmth. She thought he looked as though he might snap.

"You could say that," she replied, her voice flat, the words coming out too quickly. She found herself mirroring his actions, straightening her own clothing, feeling the tension build in her shoulders. The train screeched to a halt, and for a fleeting moment, she felt something close to panic.