Gemotions

The elevator ride felt interminable. Amelia stared at the numbers ticking upwards, each floor a fresh wave of panic. Her hands were ice-cold, despite the humid air. The building loomed above her, a stark concrete monolith, mirroring the icy control she imagined behind his eyes. Mr. Peterson, of all people, the man who had reveled in her failures. Now, she was supposed to bare her soul to him.

Her breath hitched in her throat. She gripped the strap of her bag so tightly her knuckles whitened. The doors opened with a soft *ding*. She took a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of calmness, and headed for the office.