Gemotions

The airport felt alien, the polished floors reflecting distorted images of him. He ran a hand through his hair, finding it plastered to his forehead with sweat, even though the air conditioning was blasting. The screen, announcing the flight's latest delay, mocked him with its flashing red letters.

He had been so sure he’d make it. The meeting was crucial. He had spent weeks preparing the presentation, meticulously crafting every slide, anticipating every question. Now, everything was slipping away. He felt like he was walking underwater.

He headed toward the information desk, his steps clumsy, his words tripping over themselves as he explained his situation to the bored attendant. The woman just shrugged, offering him a voucher for a free meal. He didn't even want food, he wanted control. He wanted to be at the conference.