Gemotions

A cold sweat slicked down Maya's spine. The air was oppressive, heavy with the metallic scent of fear. She crossed her arms, a gesture meant to provide some semblance of protection. She couldn’t stop fidgeting, her fingers tapping a restless rhythm on her arm. The elevator doors, a solid barrier of metal, were a constant reminder of her predicament.

Her coworker, Tom, looked at her, his expression unreadable. She felt a growing tension in her jaw. She needed to escape.

She began to think of all the obligations she was missing, the things she had left unfinished. This confinement was a personal affront. She wanted to scream.