Gemotions

He felt the veins in his temples begin to throb. John clenched his jaw, the muscles in his face rigid. Three hours. Trapped. The sheer incompetence of it all was staggering. The building, a monument to corporate greed, couldn't even keep its elevators functioning. He stared at the security camera, a cold, unblinking eye, feeling a surge of pure, unadulterated aggravation.

Beside him, Emily, his coworker, had started humming a ridiculous pop song. He shot her a look that would have withered a lesser person. He was going to miss his doctor's appointment. Again.

He slammed his fist against the control panel, a sharp, decisive blow. The buttons did nothing, of course. His knuckles ached, a small, yet satisfying, reminder of his own powerlessness in the face of this bureaucratic ineptitude.

He began to pace, muttering under his breath about the inefficiency of the whole enterprise. "Unbelievable," he hissed, each word a venomous dart. “Un-be-liev-able.”