Gemotions

The elevator ascended slowly, the fluorescent lights of the hotel lobby buzzing overhead. Maya tapped her foot impatiently, eyes fixed on the numbers above the door. A bland, generic elevator music filled the small space. Then, a recognizable melody began to take shape. It was her song. Her words. But the instrumentation, the tempo, the singer's voice – all unrecognizable. It felt hollow, sanitized. She slammed her hand on the button for her floor, the sudden jolt startling the other passengers. She rushed out when the doors opened, needing air, needing to escape the suffocating imitation.