Gemotions

"Damn it," Thomas muttered, the words barely audible as he paced the length of the gate area. His knuckles were white as he gripped his phone. He had a job interview, a chance to get back on his feet, scheduled for an hour from now. The delay meant disaster.

He stopped, head down, and ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. The airport seemed to hum with a chaotic energy that grated on his nerves. Every announcement, every squealing child, every cheerful greeting felt like a deliberate taunt.

The air conditioning blasted cold, but he felt a burning heat under his skin. He needed to make this interview, he *had* to. He considered calling, explaining the situation. But what if they just didn't believe him? What if this was the final nail in the coffin of his ambitions?