Gemotions

The fluorescent lights in the elevator hummed, a relentless drone that grated on Amelia's nerves. She’d been preparing for this presentation for weeks, pouring over data, rehearsing every line, and now, trapped with Mark, she could feel the carefully constructed façade of composure beginning to crack.

“So, uh, great weather we’re having, huh?” Mark’s voice was too loud, too cheerful. She didn't respond. She just stared at the control panel, willing the flashing numbers to change, to indicate movement. Her fingers twisted the strap of her handbag so tightly the leather creaked.

A bead of sweat trickled down her temple. The air was thick, heavy, suffocating. She imagined the faces of the board members, their critical eyes dissecting her every word. What if she failed? What if all that effort was for nothing? Her chest constricted; she found it hard to breathe.

“You okay?” Mark asked, his voice laced with concern. Amelia snapped her head up, a dismissive wave accompanying her curt, "Fine." She turned away, staring at the floor, and swallowed hard.