Gemotions

The steel door slammed shut, and Amelia's breath hitched. She hated enclosed spaces. Her pulse hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat in the sudden quiet. She glanced at Mark, her coworker, trying to appear unconcerned. She hoped her face wasn't as pale as she felt.

"Well," Mark said, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips, "this is… unexpected." Amelia forced a smile.

“Yeah, unexpected,” she echoed, her voice sounding thin even to her own ears. Her hands were clammy, and she surreptitiously wiped them on her skirt. The air grew thick, and she felt a prickle of sweat trace its way down her spine. She needed to get out, to *breathe*.

“Think we should… call for help?” Mark asked, fidgeting with his tie. Amelia nodded sharply. The sooner they got out of this metal box, the better. She wanted to scream, to pound on the door, but she kept her voice low. “Yes, please. Right away.”