Gemotions

The elevator ascended slowly, each floor a fresh wave of panic. She kept fiddling with the strap of her purse. The building was familiar; they’d talked for months about her job there. But the knowledge of it felt like a trap now. His message had been clear: he'd taken the train in to meet.

Her stomach churned. This was supposed to be simple. He knew her work, her bosses, her colleagues. His intimate knowledge of her life, once a comfort, now felt like a violation. Every detail, every story, felt like a breach of privacy. She felt exposed and vulnerable.

The doors hissed open on her floor, and she hesitated, her feet refusing to move. She needed to turn around, to go back down, to disappear. But the hallway, with its bland beige walls and the looming threat of his presence, felt suffocating.