Gemotions

The stale air and the flickering lights were starting to get to him. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture he’d repeated countless times. He stared at the elevator’s control panel, the buttons glowing with a cold, sterile light. He thought of his mother's hands, the way she used to smooth his hair when he was a child. He felt a deep longing for the comfort and safety of those moments.

He turned to look at Chloe, his coworker, and noted the worry lines creasing her forehead. He saw himself in her, struggling with the weight of the present.

He cleared his throat. "Sometimes," he began, his voice barely audible, "I feel like I'm losing touch with everything."

Chloe looked at him, her gaze meeting his, and offered a small, understanding nod.