Gemotions

The weight of the situation seemed to settle heavily on Frank's chest. He felt his breath quicken, shallow and uneven. He tried to count to ten, but lost track after three, each number a stab of anxiety. Three hours. He looked at the closed doors, the metal a solid wall of confinement.

His co-worker, Carol, was humming quietly, trying to make light of the situation. He wanted her to stop. He wanted to scream. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even further.

He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to do something, anything, to break the monotony. He began pacing the small space, ignoring Carol's concerned glances.

He pictured the open sky, the freedom of movement. He wanted to feel the sun on his face, the wind in his hair. He felt a cold sweat break out, drenching his shirt. He leaned against the wall, his vision blurring. He was sure he was going to pass out.