Gemotions

The fluorescent lights hummed, an irritating, unwavering buzz. Sarah crossed her arms, the action a deliberate display of her displeasure. Mark, her coworker, was humming too – a jaunty, oblivious tune that grated on her nerves. Three hours. Three hours she was going to have to endure this man, trapped in a metal box.

She glared at the call button, imagining a scenario where she could somehow rewire it to electrocute Mark. The thought brought a small, tight smile to her lips. His incessant positivity was a weapon, and she’d been forced to parry it all day. Now, in this confined space, she could feel the tension radiating off her.

"So," Mark began, his voice bright, "What do you think they'll serve at the holiday party this year?" She stared ahead, feigning interest in the elevator's generic metal paneling. The elevator did not move.