Gemotions

The metallic tang of fear and anxiety mixed with the metallic walls of the elevator. Clara rubbed her temples, attempting to alleviate the pressure that had settled there. Her limbs felt heavy, weighted down as though she had been swimming for hours. She wanted to sit, but the floor felt like a million tiny needles.

She could barely keep her eyes open. Every movement, every word, seemed to drain her of all available energy. She imagined a warm bath, a soft blanket, a room shrouded in darkness.

“You okay?” John asked. Clara could only manage a slow nod, her gaze fixed on the flickering emergency light. It was a torture. The thought of waiting longer made her want to weep.