Gemotions

The flickering departure board mocked Amelia with its relentless updates. "Delayed. Delayed. Delayed." Her wedding dress, carefully packed in a garment bag, felt like a lead weight in her hand. She slumped onto a hard plastic chair, the sterile air of the airport doing nothing to soothe her rising anxiety. The butterflies in her stomach weren’t of the excited variety; they were frantic, caged. She should be saying "I do," right now, not staring at a list of flight times that seemed to deliberately lengthen with each passing minute. A tear escaped, tracing a path down her cheek.