Gemotions

The cold pressed against her skin. The chill, she thought, was appropriate. The situation demanded an iciness, a carefully crafted indifference. Across from her, David, always eager to lend a hand, was trying to pry open the elevator doors. She watched him, his earnest efforts filling her with a strange satisfaction.

She allowed herself a small, internal chuckle. Let him get dirty. Let him struggle. She was perfectly content to remain seated, arms crossed, observing his futile attempts with detached amusement. Let the man work.

"It won't open," she finally said, her voice flat. "Might as well sit down and wait." She watched his face fall, a tiny thrill running through her.