The flickering television screen offered a muted spectacle of a news anchor, his voice a drone that did little to occupy Maya. She’d already devoured the complimentary peanuts and the last of her water. Now, she was meticulously picking at the chipped nail polish on her thumb, a habit she usually avoided in public. The delay announcement crackled over the speakers again, a fresh wave of frustration washing over her. She’d been anticipating the opening night of her brother's play for months. Now, the prospect of missing it entirely loomed, a heavy weight in her chest.
She stood and began pacing the terminal, the harsh fluorescent lights reflecting in the polished floor tiles. The endless stream of hurried travelers, each with their own destination, felt miles away and separate from her own situation. The rhythm of her footsteps against the cold floor was the only thing filling the silence, a futile attempt to burn off the restless energy that had taken root within.
She glanced at her watch again, knowing the time hadn't changed, and sat back down, leaning back against the cold, hard seat. She began absentmindedly tapping the rhythm of the theme song to her favorite TV show on her knees. This was truly a waste of a precious day.