Gemotions

The air in the waiting area was thick with the scent of stale coffee and simmering resentment. John crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on the endless stream of people moving effortlessly toward their flights. This was beyond inconvenient; it was malicious. His grandfather’s funeral.

He felt the muscles in his jaw clench. The airline, the world, everyone was making a mockery of him. Each new announcement felt like a punch. He sat, immobile, a statue of rage.

He closed his eyes, visualizing the scene he was missing. It was a vivid image. The grief. The respect. The absence of his own presence. He was nothing.