Gemotions

The metallic scent of the elevator, usually unnoticeable, suddenly became overpowering, filling Ben's nostrils and making him feel lightheaded. He checked his watch for the tenth time in as many minutes, each tick of the second hand a tiny, torturous blow. He began to pace back and forth, a narrow, frantic dance within the small confines.

He felt the sweat beading on his forehead, trickling down his temples. He needed to get out, he needed air. He hammered on the door, a desperate, rhythmic pounding. He could hear the muffled sounds of the building outside, but they felt so far away, mocking his predicament.

His coworker, Lisa, remained seated, her face pale, but her eyes, strangely, were fixed on his. He tried to speak, to offer some reassuring words, but his throat had closed. He swallowed, forcing a smile. It cracked his already unsteady facade.