Gemotions

He had been hiding his true self for so long. Now, trapped with Sarah, his carefully constructed façade threatened to crumble. He hadn't told anyone about his dreams, his struggles. He worried that people would view him differently, if he showed weakness. The silence in the elevator was deafening.

"So," Sarah began, her voice a little too loud, "this is… a pickle." He managed a weak smile, but the corners of his eyes betrayed his inner turmoil. He tried to focus on his breathing, but his throat constricted.

He felt the familiar shame wash over him, a deep-seated fear of being judged. He didn't want her to see him like this, a person on the verge of losing it. The small space seemed to shrink, closing in on him. He felt exposed, as if everyone could see the cracks forming in his carefully crafted composure.

He shifted uncomfortably, avoiding her gaze. This was a nightmare. He wished he could disappear. He hoped, desperately, that his mask would hold.