Gemotions

The steel doors slammed shut with a finality that made Martha's jaw tighten. Across from her, David, the intern, began muttering apologies. Martha crossed her arms. This was ridiculous. The building was notoriously poorly maintained, a fact she'd been railing against in company meetings for months. She refused to acknowledge David's nervous babbling.

The air conditioning hummed, then died. Sweat beaded on her forehead. The emergency lights flickered, casting long, dancing shadows. David suggested they try the emergency call button. Martha pursed her lips. No. She wasn't going to look weak or panic. She would wait.

She leaned against the cool metal wall, focusing on her breathing. Three hours. She could last three hours. She would. David had to be the one to get anxious. She found satisfaction in the fact that he was the one looking increasingly uncomfortable.