Gemotions

The flickering fluorescent lights above buzzed, a maddening counterpoint to the persistent thudding in Mark's chest. He hadn’t felt this clenched since the phone call from the hospital. He’d promised to be there for his sister’s surgery, and this metal box, stalled between floors, was now a mocking impediment. His gaze darted to the emergency phone, then back at his coworker, Sarah, who was fiddling with her phone, seemingly unfazed. He swallowed hard, the dryness in his throat a physical manifestation of his unease.

“Anything?” Sarah asked, her voice calm. Mark shook his head, the movement tight. He hadn’t said a word about his own plight. His jaw was locked, and his palms felt slick. He hadn't slept well the last few nights.

The silence returned, pressing in on him. He scrubbed a hand across his face. He felt the familiar weight of anxiety settling in his stomach, a cold, heavy stone. He imagined the hospital, the sterile smell, the quiet urgency. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, a futile attempt to redirect the churning feelings.