Gemotions

The flickering screens announced yet another delay. I groaned inwardly. My daughter’s dance recital. Every year, she'd spent months practicing, and I promised I would be there. Now, the airport had become a barrier, an obstacle to my commitment.

The fluorescent lights made the terminal appear clinical and cold. I leaned against the wall, my body suddenly feeling heavy, my posture slumped. The voices of the other passengers faded into a dull hum. I watched the clock, the hands moving impossibly slowly.

A wave of frustration washed over me. I wanted to smash something, to scream at the sky. A small part of me wanted to give up, to let the failure of my arrival just remain.