Gemotions

The flickering departure board was a malevolent eye, mocking Clara with its unchanging “DELAYED.” Her chest felt constricted, a tight band around her ribs. She chewed the inside of her cheek, a nervous tic she hadn't indulged in years. This flight to her grandfather's birthday. This flight that was supposed to get her there, safely, before he even woke up. Now, she might be too late. The sheer thought of it was enough to make her stomach churn.

Her fingers danced over her phone's screen, repeatedly refreshing the flight status. She kept picturing the hospital bed, the frail figure, the weak smile. Every passing minute felt like a physical blow. The echoing announcements became a chorus of despair, each one a hammer blow to her already fragile composure.

She needed to call, she knew she had to. But the words caught in her throat. Each ring felt like a lifetime.