Gemotions

The hours crawled by. My stomach ached with a mixture of hunger and dread. Across from me, John, who had been trying to remain stoic and calm, finally cracked. He rested against the side of the elevator, his head slumped. He had spoken about the loss of his job.

I watched him. His face was gray. I knew he had a family to support.

"Here," I said, breaking the silence. I handed him the apple I had packed. He accepted it, a muscle twitching in his jaw. I looked away, giving him space to gather himself.