Gemotions

The enclosed space was suffocating for Liam. The smell of stale coffee and someone's floral perfume was making him nauseous. He bounced his knee, trying to burn off some of the energy that coursed through him like a live wire. Three hours. He kept repeating the words in his head as if they were some sort of mantra.

"So, uh..." he started, then trailed off. The woman beside him, Mrs. Henderson, a sharp-tongued accountant, looked at him with an inscrutable gaze. He hated awkward situations. He hated being trapped.

He picked at a loose thread on his jacket. He considered telling her a joke, something to lighten the mood, but the words wouldn't come. He just felt... wrong. The silence stretched, a taut, vibrating wire.

He stared at his feet, willing the doors to open. Each creak and groan of the elevator sent a fresh wave of unease through him. He couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen. He wanted to scream.