Gemotions

The flickering airport monitor mocked Elias. His connecting flight to Boston was delayed. He stared at the screen, then back at his phone. The wedding was already starting. He pictured his sister, beaming, walking down the aisle, and a knot formed in his stomach. He hadn't been there for her. He’d promised to be.

He slammed his fist against the armrest of the plastic chair. His knuckles stung, but the pain did not compare to the pressure building in his chest. He saw the text message from his mother again: “Where are you? She’s waiting.” He rubbed his tired eyes and sighed heavily. He’d let everyone down.

He walked to the window, the harsh fluorescent lights of the airport making him squint. He stared out at the tarmac, watching the planes come and go. Each departure felt like a fresh stab. He felt like a failure.