Gemotions

He paced, a caged animal in a too-small space. His father was in the hospital, and he'd promised he would be there. He needed to be there. He had to be. The airline's automated voice announced a further delay. He swore under his breath, a low growl of frustration.

He felt a tightness in his chest, a vise squeezing the air from his lungs. He leaned against the window, watching the planes. He imagined his father's face, his hand, how he'd been hoping for his son's presence.

The metallic smell of the airport seemed to intensify, wrapping around him. He felt as if the world was closing in, leaving him alone with his regret. He sank to the floor, defeated.