Gemotions

The harsh fluorescent lights of the terminal seemed to drain all the color from her world. Maya sat, legs stretched out, her head resting against the cold wall. Her hands were limp in her lap, fingers drumming a desultory beat. She hadn't felt like eating, hadn't felt like drinking, hadn't felt like anything. The news of the delay had been delivered with a callous indifference that mirrored her own lack of interest. She had to be in Los Angeles for her audition. Now, the opportunity was dissolving into the ether.

She watched other passengers pace, agitated, and a small, bitter smile touched her lips. She understood their frustration, but it didn't stir any emotion within her. Even the thought of losing the chance to perform felt muted.

She pulled out her phone and scrolled through old photos, images of friends, of laughter, of a life that felt distant and foreign. A yawn escaped her, slow and heavy, the signal of a deeper internal malaise.