Gemotions

The fluorescent hum died, replaced by an unsettling silence. Amelia leaned back against the mirrored wall, her hands clasped loosely in her lap. A fine sheen of sweat coated her brow, but instead of agitation, a slow calming settled within her.

Across from her, David, usually a picture of composure, was rapidly thumbing through his phone, a furrow etched between his eyebrows. Amelia watched him, her gaze gentle, understanding. She felt no urgency.

She took a slow, measured breath, letting it out with a quiet release. The air was close, but it didn't bother her. She felt like she'd been waiting for an excuse to pause.

Amelia found herself examining the pattern of the brushed steel panels. Each tiny imperfection told a story, and she felt a connection to their anonymous creators. "Just think," she said, her voice a calm whisper, "we don't have to be anywhere, for a little while."