Gemotions

The airport felt like a cocoon around Clara. She’d arrived hours ahead of schedule, anticipating the usual travel stress, but so far, nothing. Her flight was delayed, of course. She’d chosen a quiet corner, away from the screaming toddlers and frantic travelers. She flipped through a magazine, her fingers tracing the glossy pages. A pleasant warmth spread through her chest. The delayed flight meant more time to soak in the atmosphere. The reason for her journey, the opening of her new art gallery, felt a distant, almost inconsequential, concern.