Gemotions

Agnes’s cheeks prickled. The gate agent had just announced a four-hour delay due to a maintenance issue. Four hours. The gallery opening, her first solo exhibition, was in three. She wrung her hands, the polished silver of her rings glinting under the harsh airport lights. She'd spent months preparing, meticulously curating, and now, it seemed, she wouldn’t even be there.

The woman behind the counter offered a sympathetic smile, but Agnes couldn't meet her eyes. Instead, she stared at the departure board, the blinking "DELAYED" next to her flight number a cruel, flashing accusation. She retreated to a corner, pulling her oversized scarf higher, effectively shrinking into herself.

Her phone buzzed, a message from her mother: "Are you there yet, darling? The canapés are delicious!" Agnes typed a curt reply, a knot forming in her stomach. She felt a burning sensation in her chest, a mix of frustration and utter mortification.