Gemotions

The departure board swam before Elias's eyes, the flickering lights blurring the gate numbers. He blinked, rubbing at his temples. The announcement crackled, words dissolving into static about a technical issue. He glanced at his watch. Damn it. He was already going to be cutting it close. His stomach churned, a cold knot forming in the pit. He took a deep, ragged breath and tried to focus on the task ahead.

He found himself wandering the terminal, past duty-free shops and overpriced cafes, not really seeing anything. The familiar airport sounds – the rolling suitcases, the incessant chatter, the rhythmic announcements – felt distant, muted. He should have grabbed a coffee, but the thought made him queasy. Instead, he leaned against a cold wall, willing the time to pass faster.

His phone buzzed. A text from his sister: "Where are you? Dinner is starting." He quickly typed back, his fingers fumbling: "Delayed. Ugh. On my way." He shoved the phone back in his pocket, a wave of frustration washing over him. The dinner was for his grandmother's 80th, and he, of course, was going to be late.