Gemotions

The hum of the elevator grated on George's ears, each cycle of the motor a reminder of his predicament. He couldn't stop fidgeting, adjusting his tie, then running a hand through his hair. Three hours. He had never felt so utterly, completely helpless.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to break the doors down. He wanted to run. Instead, he forced himself to take deep breaths, trying to control the erratic rhythm of his heart.

He kept glancing at his coworker, Martha, who was leaning against the wall, staring blankly ahead. He wished she would say something, anything. But the silence pressed down on him, a heavy, suffocating weight.

He started muttering to himself, trying to find some semblance of control. The metallic taste in his mouth, the feeling of being trapped... it was a nightmare. He didn’t like it.