Gemotions

"Well, this is just great," Mark muttered, his voice tight. He glared at the ceiling, feeling an irrational anger towards the elevator’s machinery. Beside him, Jessica, usually so composed, was fidgeting, her fingers tracing the outline of her name tag. He felt his own temper simmer, the heat radiating outwards.

The tight confines of the elevator felt like a prison. His phone was dead, his schedule in tatters. He imagined the emails piling up, the missed calls. He imagined the disapproving looks from his boss, the accusations of incompetence. He was immobilized, bound by circumstance, incapable of action.