Gemotions

From the window, I watched the ground crew working around the grounded plane. They were mere ants in the vastness of the tarmac. My wife’s birthday. I was supposed to be there. Now, the airport was a prison.

I hadn't eaten. My stomach ached. I leaned against the cold glass, a statue of thwarted intentions. Each passing minute amplified the feeling of helplessness.

I kept replaying the scene in my head, the carefully chosen gift, her smile. The airport lighting seemed to dim with each passing hour. I wanted to just... disappear.