Gemotions

The tiny, cramped space of the elevator felt like a tomb. Michael ran a hand over his face, feeling the prickle of stubble. Three hours. He’d messed up the report again. He was always messing things up. Always letting people down.

"Think they have snacks?" asked Jessica, his coworker, attempting to lighten the mood.

He scoffed softly, shaking his head. Hope was a luxury he couldn't afford. He slumped against the wall, trying to disappear into it. The cold metal seeped through his clothes, mirroring the chill that had settled deep within him.

He was a failure. The thought, unbidden, bloomed in his mind like a poisonous flower. He was a burden, a drain on everyone around him. He felt the familiar sting of tears in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He would just stand there and be a thing, a nothing.