Gemotions

The airport felt like a purgatory. Sarah paced the length of the waiting area, a restless energy coursing through her. She clutched the crumpled boarding pass in her hand, the paper feeling rough against her skin. Her brother’s wedding was supposed to be in three hours. She’d spent weeks preparing, selecting the perfect dress, rehearsing her speech.

A small child began to wail, and Sarah flinched. The sound grated on her nerves. She glared at the parent, who offered a weak smile in return. The announcements continued, a stream of apologies and vague reassurances. She felt a tremor in her hands, a physical manifestation of her exasperation.

The champagne toast, the first dance, the vows – all of it, she was missing it, she was missing *everything*.