Gemotions

The coffee tasted like burnt dirt. Mark pushed the half-finished cup away, the bitter flavor doing nothing to soothe his inner turmoil. His father’s anniversary, a milestone he’d promised to attend, was quickly slipping away.

He slammed his laptop shut, the abrupt noise drawing a sideways glance from the person beside him. He ignored it. The delay was more than just a logistical nuisance; it was a personal affront.

He paced the limited space near his gate, his footsteps heavy and restless. Every announcement seemed to prolong his misery. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that barely contained his inner turmoil.