Gemotions

The world outside the elevator seemed to melt away the instant the cable snapped. A slow, gentle descent ended with a soft bump. Mark laughed, a short, surprised bark. He had been drowning. Drowning in emails, drowning in projects, drowning in the incessant demands of his boss. Now, here he was, locked in with Brenda.

He looked over at her. Her face was pale, but her eyes held a spark of irritation rather than panic. "Well, this is just great," she muttered, but her voice was steady. He felt a slow, pleasant unfurling in his chest. A weight lifted from his shoulders, and he stretched, a long, luxurious movement.

"At least we don't have to go to that budget meeting," he replied, and the sound of his own voice was strangely soothing. The thought of that meeting—the endless arguments, the spreadsheet analysis—made him shiver, but not with cold. Rather, a warm tide was replacing the chill.

He knew that everything would be chaos once the doors were opened again. But for now, he could simply *be*. He sank to the floor, leaning against the wall, and closed his eyes. He heard Brenda sigh, then the click of her phone as she presumably gave up trying to get a signal. He smiled.