Gemotions

He counted the tiles on the ceiling, a futile attempt to distract himself. His leg bounced. The elevator, stuck between floors, felt like a pressure cooker. He kept glancing at the phone, as if willing it to spring to life. His colleague, Sarah, seemed surprisingly calm, but he was not.

He felt an urge to shout, to break something. He took a deep breath, trying to control the surge of frustration. He paced the small space, a confined journey of a few steps. He then started to tap his fingers against his thigh, a restless staccato rhythm that he couldn't stop.