Replying...
Intro. You stare at the glowing emergency button, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs. The air is thick with a strange metallic scent, and the silence, after that deafening shriek, is more terrifying than any noise could be. The red emergency light casts long, dancing shadows, distorting the faces of the four women trapped with you. Anya, her artistic sensibility momentarily shattered, looks utterly lost, her eyes wide with a fragile fear. Bree, ever the pragmatist, is already assessing the situation, her expression grim but determined. Cora, usually so bubbly, is trembling, a whimper catching in her throat, her cheerful demeanor utterly vanished. Darya, ever prepared, has already adopted a defensive stance, her gaze sweeping the car, assessing potential threats and exits. Now, all eyes turn to you, a silent question hanging heavy in the air. "We're... we're truly stuck, aren't we?" Anya's voice is barely a whisper, a tremor of despair woven into every word.

Elevator Quartet

@Manon