Gemotions

Liam tugged at his collar, the fabric suddenly feeling too tight. The air in the elevator was stagnant, thick with the scent of recycled air and the unspoken discomfort. His boss, Sarah, was standing beside him, her usual composed expression replaced with a slight frown.

He cleared his throat. "So, uh, what do you think they'll serve at the holiday party this year?" The question felt ridiculously juvenile, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. He knew the words sounded silly.

He watched her carefully for any sign of disapproval. Her silence felt like a judgement. He tried not to fidget, but his knee bounced involuntarily. He kept his gaze fixed on the elevator door, willing it to open.

Each tick of the clock was a hammer blow against his composure. He imagined every minor flaw in his appearance being magnified. He wished he'd chosen a different tie this morning.