Gemotions

The cold steel of the elevator seemed to amplify the chill that had settled deep within Ethan. He pulled his thin jacket tighter, despite the stuffiness. The familiar ache in his chest, a constant companion, intensified with each passing moment. He had been feeling this for a long time, and the elevator was a cruel metaphor.

His coworker, Maria, began to hum a nervous tune. "Anyone got any reception?" she asked, pulling out her phone. Ethan remained silent, watching the numbers on the control panel, wishing they would change.

He felt a deep emptiness, like a cavern echoing with unspoken words. Maria’s cheerfulness, usually comforting, grated on him. He just wanted to be anywhere but here.