Gemotions

He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, the gesture a nervous tic he hadn't noticed until now. His throat felt scratchy, and he took a long, slow swallow. Three hours. They’d been trapped for three hours. The air in the elevator was getting thick, stale.

"Think they forgot about us?" Sarah’s voice, usually bright and optimistic, was barely a whisper. He managed a weak smile, fighting the urge to slump against the wall.

"They won't. They can't. They just... haven't yet." His words held more doubt than reassurance, even to himself. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed, and he found himself staring at them, tracking the slow, agonizing passage of time.