Gemotions

The steel doors slammed shut with a finality that made Elias’s jaw clench. Three hours. He could practically feel the smirk on Mr. Henderson’s face – the man who’d torpedoed Elias’s promotion. It would have been easy to blame the malfunctioning elevator. But this? This felt…orchestrated.

He took a slow, deliberate breath, the stale air thick with the scent of cheap cologne and the low hum of the machinery. His knuckles were white against the cold, metal railing. He’d make Henderson pay for this. He just needed to figure out how.

"Well, this is just great," Henderson’s voice, tight and pinched, cut through the silence. Elias ignored him, focusing instead on the flickering emergency light. It cast long, dancing shadows across the cramped space, and he relished the thought of those shadows growing longer still.