Gemotions

The overhead lights flickered, casting a sickly yellow glow on the cramped metal box. Amelia crossed her arms, a shiver running down her spine despite the stuffy air. "Oh, great," she muttered, her voice barely a whisper. "Just what I needed." Mark, her coworker, was already fiddling with his phone, trying to get a signal. She eyed him, watching his increasingly frustrated movements. Three hours, he’d said. Three hours. She pursed her lips, imagining the emails piling up in her inbox.

The emergency phone on the wall looked pristine, untouched. Amelia ran a finger across its smooth plastic, then slowly withdrew her hand. Probably didn't work. Everything in this building was half-baked. She leaned against the wall, the cold metal seeping into her back. "Anyone ever used this thing?" she asked, her tone flat. Her gaze remained fixed on the phone.

Mark, still wrestling with his phone, gave an exasperated sigh. "Not a good time for a tech detox, I guess." He paused, looking at her. "Relax, they'll get us out. They always do." He attempted a reassuring smile, which failed to reach his eyes. She wasn’t convinced.