Gemotions

He glared at the departure board, the electronic text mocking him with its unchanging delay notification. Michael crossed his arms, the action a deliberate attempt to project calm he certainly didn't feel. His grandmother’s funeral was this afternoon; a flight delay was the last thing he needed.

He considered confronting the customer service representative, but the line snaked around the corner, filled with equally frustrated travelers. Instead, he pulled out his phone, scrolling through old photos of his grandmother. The memories, normally a comfort, now felt like a cruel reminder of time slipping away.

The stale air in the terminal seemed to press down on him. He felt a sudden, almost overwhelming urge to shout, to break something. His jaw clenched, and he took a deep, shaky breath, fighting to regain control. He checked the time again, his knuckles white against the phone.