Gemotions

The fluorescent lights in the elevator hummed, a monotonous drone that seemed to mirror the emptiness in Amelia’s chest. She hugged her arms tightly around herself, a futile attempt to ward off the chill that had settled deep within her bones. Across from her, Mark, her coworker, was fiddling with his phone, the screen stubbornly blank. She was grateful for the distraction; she couldn't bear to make eye contact. Her breath hitched.

The air grew thick, stale, and the metal walls pressed in, reflecting her own drawn face back at her. Her hands felt clumsy, her fingers itching. She'd spent the entire morning battling with an internal tremor, a persistent, unwelcomed vibration that now seemed to worsen.

"So," Mark finally said, his voice a bit too loud in the confined space. “Any idea what’s going on?” Amelia shook her head, unable to speak. The lump in her throat was a physical manifestation of everything she’d kept buried all week. The weight was almost too much to carry. She had to stay strong.