Gemotions

He paced the sterile, brightly lit waiting area, his footsteps echoing in the oppressive silence. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he tugged at the collar of his shirt. A cold dread seeped into him, chilling him to the core. The wedding. His best friend’s wedding. He was supposed to be the best man.

The airport clock seemed to advance in slow motion, each second an eternity. He ran his hands through his hair, over and over again, as if trying to physically force the minutes to pass more quickly.

The sheer frustration was almost unbearable. He could not stop the racing feeling in his chest. A sick feeling had begun in his gut and was slowly spreading. Each passing second brought him closer to the moment of catastrophic failure. Failure that might destroy a friendship.