Gemotions

"Another hour," the gate agent had said, his voice as bland as the airport coffee. Clara, supposed to be arriving for her mother's birthday dinner, simply nodded. The news barely registered. She leaned against the cold window, watching the planes taxi on the tarmac.

She’d been looking forward to seeing her mom, but now... the anticipation had transformed into a heavy weight in her chest. She watched the planes, their metal bodies reflecting the pale afternoon sun, and felt an inexplicable sense of weariness, a profound surrender. She didn't want to get up and walk around. She felt no compulsion to complain.

A small, sad smile touched her lips. She really should have checked her bag. The thought seemed more like a distant memory, not a regret.