Gemotions

The emergency lights cast long, dancing shadows across the cramped space. Clara leaned against the wall, her arms crossed, the crisp fabric of her blazer already starting to wrinkle. She’d stopped checking her watch. Time, after all, had lost all meaning.

Her colleague, Ben, was attempting to pry open the doors with a credit card. She watched him, unmoving. He paused, exhausted, and turned to her. “Maybe if we—” he started.

She cut him off with a weary shake of her head. "It's no use." The words felt heavy, dragging her down further. The thought of all the unfinished tasks, the calls she had to return, felt like a distant, irrelevant echo. She closed her eyes, and the world seemed to tilt slightly.