Gemotions

The sterile waiting area seemed to shrink around me. The announcement sliced through the air, delivering the final blow. My grandmother’s memorial service. Years of memories, the chance to say goodbye. Now, gone. Lost. And they didn’t care.

I pushed myself to my feet, my legs trembling. I wanted to break something, anything. The polite smiles of the airport staff felt like a deliberate taunt. I saw the couples holding hands, the families laughing. Their happiness felt like a personal affront.

I stomped to the nearest restroom and slammed the door behind me. I glared at my reflection, seeing only the raw, unadulterated anger. I wanted to shatter the mirror, to destroy the image of my own helplessness.