Gemotions

The boarding pass felt slick and clammy in David’s hand. He crumpled it, then smoothed it out again, the plastic barely holding its shape. He’d rehearsed his presentation a dozen times, practically memorized it. This conference was the culmination of months of work, the key to his promotion. Now, the departure screen flashed a mocking delay: “2 hours.” He slammed his fist lightly on the armrest, a sharp crack echoing in the mostly empty gate.

He’d called his wife, his voice tight. "Don't wait up." he'd snapped, before hanging up. Now, he was left staring at the vending machine, considering the merits of a stale bag of chips. His stomach churned, a knot of unease twisting. He felt a throbbing sensation in his temples.