Gemotions

The flickering fluorescent light above buzzed, a maddening insect trapped in a glass jar. Michael ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, the oily strands clinging to his forehead. Sweat beaded on his upper lip. He kept glancing at the security camera in the corner, a silent, unblinking eye that seemed to mock his predicament. He couldn’t bring himself to meet his coworker’s gaze, the woman he’d accidentally spilled coffee on that morning. Her forced smile now felt like a taunt.

He pressed the call button again, even though he knew it was useless. The tinny voice of the security dispatcher had been apologetic, but vague about a rescue ETA. Three hours. It felt like an eternity. Each unanswered ring amplified the hammering in his chest.

The air grew thick, stale. He felt like he was suffocating, the walls pressing in. He tugged at his collar, his breath catching in his throat. He wished he’d taken the stairs.