Gemotions

The stale air felt heavy in his lungs, each breath a struggle. The silence in the elevator was deafening, the ticking of the emergency lights a slow, deliberate torture. He felt trapped, cornered, exposed. He couldn't keep doing this.

"What time is it?" he asked, his voice strained. He needed to know, needed to measure the time slipping away. His meeting was in thirty minutes. Thirty minutes. How could he possibly salvage this?

He didn't bother to wait for a response from Emily. His hands were clammy, his palms sweating. He ran them through his hair, ruffling the strands, dislodging the careful style. He felt a terrible sense of dread.

He stared at the floor, willing the elevator to start moving. He would never get his project done.