Today just was not my day, traffic getting here was terrible, I missed my meeting, my recent project files were corrupted, and now the stairs are being cleaned which means I have to take the elevator.

I swallow and walk down the hallway from my office to the elevator, my knees shaking. To the tiny, tiny moving box of hell. I stand in front of the elevator door and push the call button. My claustrophobia clawing at me. Relax, you're not even in the elevator yet!

A bing sounds through the hallway and I take a deep breath and step into the elevator. I only exhale as soon as the doors close. I breathe deeply and watch the numbers count down. It gets down to floor five and stops, opening to reveal the one person in this entire building that I really cannot handle right now, Mr. Perfect.

I press myself against the back corner as he walks on staring at his phone. I breathe a short sigh of relief that he didn't seem to notice me.

Mr. Perfect is one of the company's board members and the most egotistical jerk in the office, and we have a lot of those. Everyone, well at least all the women, calls him Mr. Perfect because at first glance you would think that he was perfect in every way. As I have had the displeasure of having to work with him personally I can tell anyone, with confidence, that he is far from perfect. He is a stuck-up playboy, with the kind of attitude you would find in those cliché falling for the CEO novels. He also hates my guts with a fiery passion.

My thoughts are interrupted by the slam of the elevator doors. I try and focus on my breathing as I listen to the ding of the numbers changing on the elevator. Three, two... before the counter hit one the elevator comes to a sudden, shaking halt causing me to fall onto the floor.

There is a second of complete darkness before the emergency light flickers on, illuminating the small box in a red glow.

It takes a moment for everything to sink in, I'm stuck in an dark tiny box. My head feels as if it's underwater, Mr. Perfect's voice sounded muffled and far away. I lean against the wall and hug my knees to my chest closing my eyes, taking deep breaths. My head thuds softly against the mirror.

I hear Mr. Perfect's muffled voice and I open my eyes to see him looking down at me, his brows furrowed and a scowl painting his face.

"I said, do you have a phone?" he asks impatiently.

I take a moment to process what he asked and I pulled my phone out of my purse. I turn it on and my anxiety only got worse when I saw the no service signal pop-up. I hand him my phone and I can sense a panic attack rising in the back of my throat.

I put my arms around my knees and try to make myself smaller. Giving myself more room in the shrinking elevator. I could feel the walls closing in around me, the elevator becoming smaller and smaller with every passing second. I could feel myself start to hyperventilate.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asks sternly, "What are you doing?"

"I am-" I pause gasping for air, "you know you should-" I take a deep breath in a failing attempt to return my breathing to normal, "install some windows in this box." I strain out, blinking back tears.

His brows furrow for a moment and then relax in realization. He sits against the farthest corner from me giving me as much space as possible.

"You're claustrophobic," he states quietly, "what in God's name are you doing in the elevator?"

"T-the stairs," I rub my chest trying to release the build-up of pressure, "w-were closed f-for cleaning."

He is quiet for a moment before he sighs and crawls over slowly and puts a hand on each of my biceps.

Tears begin to roll down my face as I hyperventilate. I can feel the panic consume me.

"Nick you gotta listen to me okay," He says causing me to look up at him.

I let out a sob and I nod trying to breathe

"Okay Nick, four things you can touch," he says

I reach my shaking hand out sobbing harder, "Th-the floor, th-the b-buttons."

I reach out my right hand, trying to speak between uneven breaths, "Th-the mirror, y-your jacket," I reach out and brush my trembling fingers against the fabric of his coat.

I feel my breaths begin to even out slightly, tears streaming steadily down my face. Clutching his jacket, as if my life depended on it

"Good, now three things you can hear, just listen," he says.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, "the f-faint elevator music, m-my breathing, a-and Jim obnoxiously telling a s-story."

My breathing starts to even out and my heartbeats begin to slow. I let out a panicked sob.

"Two things you can smell Nick," he said calmly.

I take a deep breath through my nose, "stale coffee, a-and your cologne," I say between small sobs.

"One thing you can taste," he says.

I open my eyes and staring into his, pleading, "Panic," I say crying softly.

He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and pulled my head into his chest. I close my eyes and try to match my breathing with his. We sat like that until the walls stopped closing in. I could still feel the coil of fear in my stomach, but it feels less intense than before.

"I thought you hated me, for the project incident," I tell him softly.

He chuckles quietly, "I know that wasn't your fault," he pauses, "you were the reason that it didn't fall apart, the reason I act the way I do towards you is quite the opposite."

My eyes widen but, before I could say anything the firemen were prying the doors open and helping us out.