Gemotions

He stared at the boarding pass, the ink blurring slightly from the tears that had already fallen. His grandmother’s funeral. He was supposed to be there. The plane was late. He had been given a cold cup of coffee by a disinterested attendant. He sat down and put his head in his hands, unable to lift it.

His stomach clenched, a physical manifestation of the agony that was ravaging him. The announcements blared, a constant reminder of the delay. He felt a deep, dull ache in his chest, a sensation that had settled in his bones. It was as if a part of him had been torn away, and he could do nothing but wait.

He thought of her face, of her gentle hands, of her love. It was all a memory now. Each passing minute was a chisel, carving away at his composure. He felt hollow, as if the life had been stolen from him.