Gemotions

The sterile air of the airport smelled of cleaning chemicals and stale coffee. The delay was announced a third time. Amelia remained seated, her hands clasped loosely in her lap. Her best friend’s book launch, the one she’d helped edit. She felt the faintest tremor of… something. Was it anxiety? It was gone before she could identify it.

She pulled out her knitting, the rhythmic click of the needles a calming sound. She stared at the loops of wool, lost in the patterns. She felt nothing beyond the physical repetition.