Gemotions

He’d always hated elevators. The confined space, the unpredictable lurching, the feeling of being trapped. Now, it was amplified. John pressed the button for the penthouse floor, his heart hammering against his ribs. The silence, punctuated only by the hum of the machinery, was almost unbearable. He kept checking his watch, knowing it was useless.

The elevator doors slid open. A woman, elegant and unfamiliar, stood in the doorway of a sprawling apartment. It *was* Sarah, but... different. Her eyes flitted over him, registering nothing. John took a tentative step forward.

“Excuse me, do you… do you know who I am?” His voice wavered. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. She looked at him with an expression of polite inquiry, as if he were a stranger.

"I'm sorry, sir," Sarah said, a slight tilt to her head. "I don't believe we've met." The air thickened in his lungs. He wanted to turn and run.