Gemotions

The steel door slammed shut with a sickening thud, cutting off the fluorescent hum of the office. Amelia’s heart lurched. Across from her, Mark, a man perpetually shrouded in a cloud of quiet apprehension, visibly deflated. She noticed a sheen of perspiration forming on his forehead. "Are you alright?" she asked, her voice tight.

He managed a weak nod. She watched him fiddle with the buttons, his movements jerky. "Don't worry," she said, though her own stomach was churning. She pictured him, alone in his tiny apartment, the weight of the world pressed upon his shoulders.

She tried to make conversation, asking about his weekend plans, even though she knew he’d be buried in paperwork. Each attempt brought a hesitant, strained response, but his eyes were filled with a bleak resignation that tugged at her. She hoped for their sake they would be rescued soon.