Gemotions

The emergency lights flickered, casting long, dancing shadows across the cramped metal box. Amelia pressed her back against the cool steel wall, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Her fingers, usually quick and efficient on a keyboard, were now fumbling with the tiny phone screen. No signal. Just static.

"Well, this is just great," muttered Mark, the guy from accounting. His voice sounded unusually high-pitched. He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, leaving it standing on end. He paced, then stopped abruptly, his eyes darting around the small space.

Amelia tried to focus, forcing herself to count the seconds between the elevator's creaks and groans. She had to get control of herself. The thought of being trapped, buried in the concrete and steel of the building, sent a fresh wave of unease rippling through her.