Gemotions

The flickering departure board swam before Elias’s eyes, a jumble of letters and numbers refusing to coalesce into any helpful information. He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, the texture a familiar comfort in the overwhelming anxiety that was building. He’d be late, impossibly late. His sister's wedding. He’d promised her.

His phone buzzed with another frantic text from his mother. The terse message: “Where are you? Ceremony starts in an hour!” He typed back a hurried explanation, his thumbs stumbling over the words. The response was immediate: a series of increasingly frantic emojis. He felt a cold dread creep into his chest.

He wandered the sterile airport corridors, past bored travelers and overpriced shops, the knot in his stomach tightening with each passing minute. He found himself staring blankly at the window, watching the planes sit motionless on the tarmac, the sun reflecting brightly off their metal skin like an insult.