Gemotions

The small, confined space felt suffocating. Ben, usually jovial, sat in the corner, his legs drawn up to his chest. Across from him, Susan was attempting to read a book, but her eyes kept darting around the elevator, as if searching for an escape route. The silence was unnerving, a stark contrast to the usual cacophony of the office.

He wanted to shout, to break the quiet, to do *something*. But what? He felt rooted to the spot, a prisoner of circumstance. He missed his home, his dog, his life. The minutes crawled by, each one a hammer blow against his dwindling hope. He felt like he was being held, indefinitely, against his will.