Gemotions

The flickering airport monitor mocked Elias. "Delayed. Delayed. Delayed." His teeth ground together. He’d envisioned the moment for weeks, rehearsed the speech, planned the perfect entrance. Now, the damn contraption of metal and wings was holding him hostage, ensuring he'd arrive too late. He slammed his fist on the armrest, the plastic groaning in protest. He wanted to shatter something, anything.

He checked his watch again, as if the passage of seconds would somehow speed up the grounded plane. Each passing minute solidified the knot of bitterness in his stomach, a cold, hard lump of disappointment. He glared at the oblivious families laughing and playing nearby, their carefree joy a personal affront. Didn’t they understand the gravity of his situation?

He stalked over to the bar, shoving past a group of giggling teenagers. "Whiskey," he barked at the bartender, the word sharp and curt. The ice clinked as he downed the drink in a single gulp, the burning sensation doing little to thaw the glacial fury within him.