Gemotions

The silence was unbearable. It felt as thick and heavy as the air. "Well, this is just great," Michael muttered, pacing the small confines of the elevator. His colleague, Susan, was attempting to read a novel, but he didn't care. Michael continued to pace, a relentless march from one end of the elevator to the other.

He kept glancing at his watch, a useless ritual. He'd open his mouth to speak, then close it, the words dying on his tongue. He stopped abruptly, and glared at the emergency phone, as if it were personally responsible for their predicament. He kicked at a loose piece of flooring.