Gemotions

The silence was deafening, the fluorescent lights harsh. Michael ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing on end. He felt the blood draining from his face, and his hands were cold, clammy. Three hours. He was going to lose his mind.

He knew he should be reassuring his co-worker, Susan, but he could barely focus on anything other than his own internal turmoil. He wished she would just leave him alone. He wanted the elevator to move.

He pictured the emails piling up in his inbox, the deadlines he was missing. He felt a hot flush creep up his neck. He began to pace the small space, ignoring Susan's questioning gaze.

He pressed the call button repeatedly, as if that would somehow speed up the rescue. Each failed attempt chipped away at his composure. He felt a tightening in his chest, a sensation he couldn’t place.