Gemotions

The pounding in his chest echoed in the empty warehouse. He’d never felt this exposed, this vulnerable. The warehouse was where they were supposed to be having their annual team retreat. A retreat that, apparently, did not exist. He'd looked into it, and there was no company, no retreat, nothing.

He kept replaying their conversation in his head. The details, the stories, the elaborate lies. Michael’s supposed career at a multinational corporation had always seemed too good to be true. Now, he wondered if his friend had been playing him all along.

The air grew heavy, almost unbreathable. He glanced around at the dust motes dancing in the single shaft of sunlight. He needed to get out of here. He needed to escape.