Gemotions

The minutes crawled by like poisoned slugs. Michael's teeth were chattering, despite the warmth of the terminal. He’d tried calling his therapist, but the connection dropped mid-sentence. He kept checking his watch, each glance punctuated by a sharp intake of breath. The job interview. He'd prepped for weeks, meticulously researched the company, the role, everything. Now, the opportunity of a lifetime was slipping away, lost in the bureaucratic maze of delayed flights. He felt a throbbing ache in his temples, a physical manifestation of his desperation.