Gemotions

He was stuck in a holding pattern, unable to attend his daughter's ballet recital. The seats he'd reserved, the flowers he'd ordered, the photographs he'd envisioned - all pointless now.

His mood had darkened, the bright terminal lights seeming to mock his disappointment. He saw families laughing, getting ready to board their flights. He wanted to shout at them, to stop their happiness.

He imagined the gifts he had prepared, and the money he had spent on them, wasted. He shoved his hands into his pockets, clutching at the tickets and the receipts, the only tangible proof of his investment.