Thomas paced the cramped waiting area, the stale air thick with the scent of coffee and desperation. His grandfather's 90th birthday party was the following day, a celebration he’d promised to attend. He was supposed to be the one taking care of the arrangements, since his parents couldn't fly. Now, grounded by a mechanical fault, he felt a familiar knot of anxiety twist in his gut.
He kept glancing at his phone, hoping for a miracle. His mother had organized everything, and had been expecting him to carry through on the plans. He’d told her he’d be there. He’d promised. The responsibility, the weight of his grandfather's expectations, pressed down on him with crushing force.
He tried to distract himself by reading, but the words swam before his eyes. Every few minutes, he’d compulsively check the flight tracker, his heart sinking further with each passing update. The fear of disappointing his family, of letting them down, was a tangible thing, a heavy weight that settled in his chest.
The thought of facing them, of explaining his absence, filled him with dread. He imagined the disappointment on his grandfather's face, the unspoken judgement in his parents' eyes. He was so screwed.