Gemotions

“Another delay, sir?” The gate agent's voice was polite, but Michael wanted to scream. His daughter's recital. His child was depending on him. He nodded, unable to speak, the words stuck in his throat.

He slumped onto the hard plastic chair, his shoulders slumping. He felt a searing pain in his stomach. The bright lights of the terminal seemed to magnify the emptiness inside him. He felt like the ground had just fallen away from him.

He pictured his daughter's face, the excited gleam in her eyes, the joy she would feel to see him. That image was a knife, twisting in his chest. A single tear escaped, running down his cheek and lost in his beard.